Note to Self
by FREEDOM HERO and Hatadian
Summary: Don't screw with ghosts. God, that hurt. Love, Alfred.
1. Mission One: Screw those Ghosts

PINEAPPLE: Hey, guys! So, Ruby and I are writing another fic together, and I hope you'll all like it. (In other words: I REALLY, REALLY, REALLY HOPE YOU GUYS WILL LIKE IT. /PUPPY EYES/) We managed to write this in, like, TWO DAYS, thanks to Ruby's super-awesome fast writing skills. Seriously, she takes like five minutes writing 1,000+ words, and then I take HOURS writing like... five paragraphs. Yeah. Ruby, make a serious A/N now.

KAWAII: Oh man, thank you, brosef. Mia always manages to make me laugh. This awesomeness you are about to read took a couple of hours of planning and intense work. We are trying our best with this fic, SO I HOPE YOU REVIEW. YUP.

**This was written when we were not high for once.**

* * *

"FUCK!" Alfred swore loudly, dashing underneath a bush. A loud growl emitted on either side of him. He gritted his teeth, and swore again. "Stupid, motherfucking low-level werewolves!"

"Shut up, you git! They can hear you about 1,000 miles away!" A low hiss was heard on the left. Alfred turned around, and his face brightened.

"Artie! Thank god you're here! This mission sucks ass. I thought you ran away―" Arthur smacked his hand over Alfred's mouth, looking pissed off. His white cross ring smashed rather loudly against Alfred's teeth, which did not feel all that great. The werewolves, their snouts in the air, barked hungrily. Luckily, werewolves couldn't hear well. At all. Even if Alfred was yelling as loud as a truck right about now.

Suddenly, the werewolves let out sharp whimpers, and blood spurted out from the deep cuts. Alfred snuck a peek, and the ground, once yellow and covered with rocks, was now painted a crimson red, tinted with gold. He let his gaze wander up, and he smiled hugely.

"Mattie! I knew you could do it, lil bro!" Alfred yelled out cheerfully. Matthew was currently swinging his scythe rather absentmindedly, his uniform splattered with werewolf bits. He looked at them in disgust, picking them off gingerly.

"Yeah, yeah. Do you realize how many times I've had to get this thing clean from the various monster parts that get on it?" His tone was mild, contradicting his annoyed words. "We still have to find the―" He was knocked off his feet by the largest werewolf they had ever seen. It looked angry, and it was foaming at the mouth. The blow had knocked the scythe out of his hands; it spun some feet away from him. The werewolf lifted its head and let out a raucous howl of victory, the sound grating on the ears.

Alfred's eyes widened, even as Arthur dragged him back. "We have to help him!" He struggled against Arthur's grip on his arm, but the strength of it was surprising.

"We can't do anything if we're dead!" Arthur's voice was low and harsh. "Get around it. Aim for any vital regions you can get to." He released his comrade and pushed him to the side. They weren't far from their friend and the monster. "Go in that direction. I'll come from the other side. If Matthew's in danger and you're not in a good position, you better hope you can surprise it."

Alfred didn't need to be told twice; his chin jerked in a nod and he was off, running as though his life depended on it. Arthur sprinted off in the other direction, various spells coming to mind. His silver dagger was gone. His breath came in pants by the time he made his way to behind the creature. He could no longer hear the howl.

He gasped, attention drawn to the werewolf. Its head was closer to the ground than he remembered it being, and he realized that it was looking at Matthew. He quickly scanned the area for Alfred, his gaze never wandering from the werewolf far. He cursed. He couldn't see the dolt. He began reciting an incantation, the spell such that it would seem as though time seemed too slow for the beast.

Of course, that was when Alfred decided to jump from the roof of what was once a house, his chainsaw screaming, and cut the werewolf's head off.

The blood was even more gruesome than before. The sharp tang of iron was in the air, and the dark red blood went all over Matthew's body. It colored his pale blond hair and splattered rather nicely over his uniform. Matthew groaned.

"Not again." He got up and wiped off gravel and dust from his sullied uniform. "But thanks anyway, Al."

"No problem! The hero always saves the day!" Alfred beamed happily, and then he looked at his chainsaw. It was also colored in red, and seemed to have a tint of green in it. "Oh man, this guy is poisoned. Thank god he didn't bite any of us." Matthew's head turned sharply to his direction.

"What the- I'm covered in poisoned werewolf blood?" Matthew did a facepalm. "Oh shit. The teach ain't gonna be happy about that."

Alfred knew that Matthew could've easily dodged the blood splatter. He just didn't do it. Matthew, for some reason, preferred to be on the ground, covered in blood, than be running away, completely blood-free. Alfred had a strange feeling that he _liked _it when he had blood all over.

"You could've ran away from there, birdy." Gilbert swung down from a tree, saying aloud what Alfred had been thinking. "Oh, and, there were a couple of ghosts hanging around here too, so while you guys were having fun, dealing with bloody mutant over here," Gilbert then proceeded to swing his arm over to the direction of the decapitated werewolf with a flourish, "I took care of the ones who wouldn't bother going to the underworld. Man, what the hell is Death doing?" He complained loudly. "Oh, and, some average people are found as well."

"Hey! We're not average!" A testily sharp, young voice was heard. They were scuttling and breaking sticks in the forest. Soon, two figures appeared. One was a girl, about the age of 7. She had locks of luscious dark chocolate brown hair, and her eyes glittered dangerously (or about as dangerous as it could be on a 7 year old), reflecting her green eyes. It was like a starburst, with tints of gold appearing out of nowhere. Her stiff muslim dress was ripped in some places, and her brown boots were unlaced. Her brother was 12. He also had wavy brown hair, although it was a paler shade, looking a bit like gold. His eyes were more yellow than green, and he had a peaceful expression on his face, despite the fact that he was gripping the silver knife on his belt rather tightly.

"Since you're both in... hmm... grade school," Gilbert teased, poking his finger onto the girl's forehead. "You pretty much ARE average, lil girl." The girl swatted his finger away, gazing at him stonily.

"Gilbert, stop teasing the girl." Matthew sighed. The gazes of the townspeople went to Matthew, and the girl gave a sharp yelp.

"You... you... blood!" She said, her eyes wide. "So... much..."

Matthew looked down, and registered that he actually DID have an insane amount of blood. Not to mention werewolf guts. He figured that he had to buy a new uniform after. "Oh, don't worry. Not my blood." The girl looked at him as though he was crazy- which he probably kind of seemed like.

"Okay, whatever. Gil, mission's over, let's report to the headmaster." He grabbed Gilbert by the wrist and pulled him over to where Alfred and Arthur were. "Oh, and, Arthur, can you clean my uniform with some of your spells?"

"No can do, Matthew." Arthur shook his head. "The Headmaster gave me a stronger limit." He pointed at his ring. "You should ask the other guys."

"What! It's just a spell to get the blood out!" Matthew exclaimed. Arthur looked at him dubiously.

"It's best if you throw that away, Mattie. You've had that uniform since... well, okay, the start of the year. But still. I can't remember how many times blood has been on it." Alfred mock-examined it, and started to mumble under his breath. "Demon blood... vampires... ooh, ghost bits..."

Matthew smacked Alfred's head away. Alfred cursed rather loudly, startling the townspeople. Gilbert gave them a look.

"Why are you guys still here? You should be away." The girl looked at him, unblinking.

"Rule 72, section III, passage 25, 'You must bring all townspeople who were present at the site of the mission to the Headmaster to examine'." She recited smoothly. They gaped at her.

"You memorized the bloody book?" Arthur said, raising one large eyebrow.

"Of course. We must read the whole thing every day." She said, rather proudly. "So, take us with you!"

* * *

"You. Gilbert. Take them to the Headmaster." Gilbert choked on his ButterRum Soda.

"Excuse me?" Gilbert said.

"Aw, c'mon! You found them, your responsibility." Alfred said cheerfully.

"That's not fair!" Gilbert was acutely aware that he sounded like a whiny five year old, but still.

"Yeah! We don't want weirdo here to take us!" The girl yelled. Gilbert's eyes shot daggers towards her.

"Look, you little..." Gilbert grabbed her by the scruff of her neck, and motioned for the boy to follow him. "Goddammit, why must I deal with this?" He crushed his soda can under his foot and left it there, the sound of his black boots clinking onto the floor. Matthew wrinkled his nose in distaste as he lifted the hem of his sleeve to smell it.

"Oh man. I'm going to chuck this thing away. And go take a shower." The uniform, once stained with red, now turned into a nasty brown, and the smell of iron was so strong Alfred and Arthur had to take about two steps back. He took off his blazer, and groaned. The white dress shirt underneath was a fresher red color. The blood from the coat had obviously seeped in. He ran his fingers through his hair, only to find it knotty and cluttered. He tried to get his fingers out, but he failed. His face paled slightly.

"Umm, Al?" He said meekly. "Can you get my fingers out of my hair?" Alfred stared at him, before bursting into laughter.

"Hahaha! You... your fingers are stuck in your hair!" He grinned widely.

Matthew gave a half-hearted glare. "Just help me."

Alfred snickered as he reached over to do so. He grabbed Matthew's wrists and pulled them back; if his fingers had been any more tangled, well, Matthew's fingers would still be in his hair, dripping blood, as they would be disconnected from his hands. As it was, Matthew just barely managed not to emit a girly shriek of pain, and cradled his hands when Alfred released his wrists. There were several indents on his fingers from his tangled hair. He looked up, violet-tinted eyes wide. "Are you trying to dislocate my fingers?"

Alfred wrinkled his nose and took a step back. "Unless that would help with your BO, no."

"Just go take a shower," Arthur said with a sigh, making a 'shoo' gesture at their bloody teammate.

Sending Alfred one last horrified look, Matthew walked away, his shoes making soft taps. His pace was a bit faster than usual, and he sped up when more than a few people turned around to stare at him, aghast at the stench. His embarrassment was nearly tangible.

"So." Alfred turned to look at his companion, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Guess it's just us, now, Twinkles."

The blond glowered at him. He had always detested nicknames. "Do you want me here or not, Jones?" he demanded quite snappishly. "I've half a mind to leave you here."

"Artie!" Alfred had never looked so horrified (except that time when he nearly swallowed some flesh that had found its way to inside his mouth). "I thought we had something special!" He laid a hand on his chest, on the approximate place of his heart. "Don't you remember our song? 'Never gonna run away and desert you'? I can't believe you'd abandon me because of a nickname. We've gone through so much together, and now you want to leave me because I called you TWINKLES?" He was dramatically disbelieving.

"Shut the fuck up!" a male yelled from across the room.

Alfred let his hand drop, looking a bit irritated. "You should totally use your magic mojo and hit the guy."

Arthur snorted. "As tempting as that suggestion is, I have to agree with Lovino. You really should shut up." He raised an eyebrow at the other man's gape. "You didn't expect me to defend you, did you?"

"No..." Secretly, Alfred shed a single tear (in his mind, at least), and his heart was smashed into dust and pebbles. Really, would it kill Arthur to NOT be heartless? He shook off his slight depression and smiled devilishly. If Arthur was a woman or attracted to men, he would be weak in the knees from that mega-watt grin. But Arthur wasn't either of them.

Yet.

"Since you didn't defend me, you have to watch a movie with me."

The shorter man's face drained of color. "I meant," he said hastily, "that of course I would defend you, but it was already too late to do so. To attempt to defend you now would make me seem a fool."

"Liar." Alfred pouted. "You never wanted to defend me in the first place. We've been teammates for more than a year, and you STILL don't think of me as worthy enough to be defended or be your friend or be on such good terms that we become super best friends and become inseparable from that day on." His pout became a mere frown, though it was no less effective. Arthur could feel his resolve weakening.

He looked away, crossing his arms as a light flush rose to his face. "If I watch the movie with you, you have to eat whatever I cook for a week."

Alfred stared at him for a few moments before throwing his hands up in the air in frustration. "Fine! You don't need to watch a movie with me!" He pivoted on his heel and stormed off, not catching his partner's incredulous expression. If he had, he probably would have rethought ditching him.

Arthur shrugged it off and went off to get a cup of tea.

* * *

The room was large; despite its number of occupants, there was still a lot of space. There were a great many groups, separated by their grades―O, E, A, P, D, and T, from highest to lowest―and then by whoever they wished to talk to in that section. Matthew, Alfred, and Gilbert were all in E; they talked amongst themselves, occasionally making a comment to someone else.

Arthur was in O, of course. He was talking quietly to a boy with a cross clip in his hair.

"... and then the wanker just left! Just like that!" Arthur frowned. "Is my cooking that bad?"

Nikolai sipped his tea, and then looked at him coolly. "No. It's perfectly fine. He likes greasy stuff." Nikolai said monotonously. He had gotten used to Arthur's rants about Alfred. Which was rather unavoidable, considering they were roommates.

"Yes. Yes, he does." Arthur said, frowning. "I'm glad you appreciate British Cuisine, Nikolai." He gave a rare smile towards the blond. Nikolai nodded mutely, but the corners of his mouth was pulled up.

The two of them were the prodigies at the school. Everyone usually only had the potential to get one job- from being a ghostbuster to a psychic- but Nikolai had two job potentials, to be a magician and a beast tamer. It was rare for that to happen. He also had the 'Sight', which allowed him to see mythical creatures that were long since extinct, like faeries and unicorns. He had easily become an 'O' student- Outstanding. Because of that, he had more power than regular students, so he had more limits than usual. Limits were jewelry that prevented you to release all of your power, since in this planet, people could only have 60% of their power active. It was one of the rules of the Ministry. The only time they could get rid of the limits is when they were close to dying- a stupid rule, Nikolai mused. Limits weakened their power by 40%. In this case, Nikolai's maximum power was 140% instead of the usual 100%. Nikolai had two limits- two silver earrings, on either side.

Arthur was a magician, which basically meant that he specialized in spell casting and potion making. He only had one career, but he studied hard and was naturally gifted with the 'Sight' as well. Other people couldn't see what they could see right now. They used to think that people with the Sight were hallucinating mental cases, but after a couple of studies and threats from the Ministry, they had gradually accepted that there were people who had more supernatural powers than usual. He had one limit, a white cross ring, on his left hand middle finger. Although his power was also higher than 100%, the ring was specially made to have more pressure. Basically, the two of them were usually enough for a mission for four.

* * *

Matthew liked the feeling of the new uniform. It was thick and soft, but the outside felt hard as steel. The gloves he had tried on flexed comfortably, and his leather boots were shiny and new. He also liked the feeling of being able to brush through his hair without his comb breaking.

"You're lucky, Matt. Maybe I should get my uniform covered in blood." Alfred said, staring down at his own uniform. The leather boots were scuffed and covered in dirt, and his clothes still reeked slightly of werewolf blood. He was sitting on Matthew's bed. "Then again, you stank real bad of blood, so no."

Matthew threw a pillow at his head to shut him up.

"Oh, man! I forgot about my scythe!" Matthew looked at said weapon, which was leaning on his bedpost. The thick, black handle was dirty with soot and grime, and the abnormally large silver blade had blood dripping down onto the wood floor. Alfred jumped up and walked away from it.

"Your fault, not mine. I think that Kumajirou would be mad if you didn't clean him up." Alfred said. He gazed down at his own chainsaw. "Oh, Sally! I hope you're alright!~" Alfred gave a great big hug to the chainsaw, which looked rather creepy.

"Why did you name my scythe Kumajirou? My polar bear back home is called Kumakatou!" Matthew said crossly. "...you named your chainsaw Sally?" he added dubiously.

"So what? It's cool. I mean, Gilbert named his pistols Awesome and Gilbird." Alfred wrinkled his brow. "Or was it... Gilpistol? Gilgun?" He absentmindedly stroked his chainsaw up and down. Matthew backed away. Alfred didn't notice. "Gilshooter? Gildot? Giltrigger? Gilshot? Gilbullet?" He frowned. "No, I'm pretty sure it's Gilbird."

Matthew raised an eyebrow. "You forgot?"

Alfred coughed. "Nooo..." He pointed a finger in his brother's direction, changing from the accused to the accuser. "How do YOU remember, huh? That was only our fourth mission! He can't have said the names of them that much!"

"You're just jealous of my amazing memory," Matthew replied with a smirk.

"Or..." Alfred pet Sally. "Someone has a crush~!"

Matthew choked on his spit, and spent a minute trying not to die. Alfred, unconcerned, watched as the boy wheezed and at last caught his breath. He blinked rapidly, his chest heaving, and glared at his snickering sibling. "You try choking," he declared sulkily. "Anyway, I think I'm going deaf because I could have sworn you said, 'Someone has a crush.'"

Alfred's eyebrows drew together. "You aren't denying it."

"What do you want me to say? 'Oh, no, Al, of course not'? No matter what I say, you'll think I do like him. I know you." Matthew crossed his arms, his jaw set. "Look, just don't say anything, or I'll kick you out of the room."

"But you're still not denying it," Alfred pointed out.

If looks could kill, he would be thrown to the dogs. "You're the worst brother ever."

Alfred winced. The words had struck a nerve. "Sorry."

"No, you're not." The words were said so vehemently that Alfred sat up straighter, instantly alert. Matthew was giving him a dark look. "You never care, so you're never sorry. Don't apologize if you don't mean it." He looked down at his hands, as if suddenly unable to meet Alfred's eyes.

Alfred didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything, lest he say something so wrong that Matthew would explode or possibly dive into a volcano. They sat in silence for a while before he cleared his throat. "Well, this was a delightful conversation, and the following silence was absolutely riveting. I should go take a shower now, though, before I start smelling as bad as you did." He walked over to his closet and opened the doors, pulling out a random pair of pants and a shirt.

He walked out of the room, closed the door, paused, opened it, and walked back to the closet to get a pair of boxers. He then walked back out with the utmost dignity, his head held high.

Matthew cracked up with the kind of laughter that brings tears to your eyes and your stomach hurt.

* * *

Gilbert kicked at a crushed can of ButterRum Soda (which looked surprisingly a lot like the one he stepped on before). The meeting to the Headmaster was, needless to say, crappy.

_"WHAT! Weirdo here is almost a Level B GUNNER?" The bratty girl said incredulously. "MASTERY? HIM?" She stared at him. Gilbert glared back at her._

_"Yes. Gilbert is also an E level. He excels quite well. So, anyway." Germania coughed, "If that is all, you may take them back, Gilbert." Gilbert gaped at him._

_"B-But Headmaster! Can't someone ELSE escort them?" Germania gave him a weary glare. Gilbert bit his tongue until he tasted blood, and then spat it out into the trash can. The girl backed away in disgust._

_"Can I have a mission? Puh-leassseee?" She shot her puppy dog eyes, sparkling and teary. Her brother pulled her off from the table._

_"You dolt! You can only get a mission at 16!" He smacked her head. Gilbert silently gave a sign of respect to the brother. _

And yadayadayada. He didn't want to get too into it because he just wanted to ignore the bratty little girl.

He wished he had amber syrup. That crap was delicious, and it would take his mind off this crappy escorting thing. Seriously, he wasn't getting paid to escort bratty little kids. While he wasn't paid for anything anyway, he still didn't think he'd be paid for this.

It was stupid. And he'd hit the chick if she said another word. She was like the brattier version of Elizaveta. Did he seriously just compare them? Elizaveta was manlier than this girl would ever be.

"Why do you kick at cans so much?" the girl asked curiously. It was the question of the day (or perhaps the century).

His eye twitched. He refrained from hurting her, but his self-control only went so far. "Because I do." He cursed himself. He should just stop talking and become a semi-mute like Nikolai. That would make her pissed, but hey, beggars can't be choosers... No matter how crappy a deal it was. He just never could win, could he?

"Well, I think it's stupid." She announced, rather unhelpfully. "And plus, you should pick it up and recycle it."

Gilbert turned around, exasperated. "What the hell? Are you the recycle police or something? Here to take me away?" He tried his best not to sneer at her. The girl glared at him, and then slammed her foot down on his foot.

"OW! You bitch!" Gilbert started to jump around, wincing in pain. Although leather boots usually would've been enough protection, she was wearing boots as well. With pointy heels. Goddammit. Stupid Veturborg fashion.

"You should apologize, Mare." The older one tried not to smile. He glared daggers at the boy. The boy shrugged and raised his hands, as if surrendering.

"I swear, if you brats say one more word-"

"LALALALA! WEIRDO HERE'S MEAN! HE'S A LITTLE DICK SUCKING BASTARDDDDDD!~" She yelled as loud as she could. Everyone in the halls swiveled their heads to face her. She looked rather out of place, with her frilly (slightly ripped) dress and brown, high heeled boots.

"Mare. Shut the fuck up." The older one said coldly, smoothing down his brown vest. She shrank slightly, but puffed up again.

"Look! Dickey, just teleport us out of here. You know some magic, don't you?" The older one choked on his spit, hacking and coughing. He glared at her.

"I told you NOT to call me that! Dammit, just cause mother named me DICK doesn't mean you can call me DICKEY!"

"So what should I call you? Harry Dickey? Oh god, that would be HILARIOUS-"

"NO IT WOULDN'T! You want me to call you horse-face?"

"I DO NOT HAVE A HORSE FACE!"

"AND I'M NOT HAIRY, SO SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

"I NEVER CALLED YOU THAT! AND ANYWAY, JUST GET US OUT OF THIS PLACE!"

"SHUT UP, YOU DAMN MOTHER FUCKER-"

"LOOK!" Gilbert bellowed. The two stopped bickering and turned to look at him. Gilbert's red eyes glowed murderously, and an angry aura practically rolled off from his body. His hands were itching towards his silver pistols, which were buckled on his belt. The blue orbs in the hilt of the pistol seemed to glint dangerously. "We can either do it the easy way, or the hard-"

"Gilbert!" Gilbert's head turned sharply toward the direction of the voice. Matthew was running towards them, his pale wavy gold hair completely knot free. Not to mention he took a shower, so he smelled about 20 times better than before. He pushed his hair back and adjusted his glasses. "I could hear them all the way from the other side of the building." He motioned with his shoulder to where he had ran from.

"Oh. Sorry. They were having an argument." Gilbert's voice sounded softer, losing the sharp, angry tone. His eyes also seemed to smile, and his face held the cocky smile yet again. His hands relaxed, hanging from his pockets. The siblings looked at each other in a knowing way.

"Hmm." Matthew looked at them. The girl leaned towards him, examining him closely. Matthew leaned back slightly.

"You look a lot cuter right now then covered in blood!" She announced. Matthew blinked, and a faint blush colored his pale skin. It quickly disappeared, however.

"Thank you." He said, smiling. She looked from him to Gilbert.

"What?" Gilbert said testily. She just smiled.

"Anyway, you're sending them back, right?" Matthew said. "I don't have anything to do. Al's in the shower, and we can get credits later." Credits were crucial to their ranks. Every time they got 1500 credits, they leveled up a rank. And each mission had different amounts of credits. The mission they had just completed was a level C mission, which was a Novice mission. That was 300 credits. They were also ranked on what supernatural creature they had killed so that it could also improve their own grade. Basically, it was hard to level up, but totally worth it. They had better dorms and upgraded weapons and everything. It also helped them in the future as well- If they had an A Rank, they could work in the government! But if they had a D Rank, forget it. They were better off working as horse pooper-scooper.

"So you're going to escort them with the awesome me?" Gilbert's grin widened. "Great! I didn't want to stay with these brats by myself anyway."

"Hey!" Mare protested. Dick just shook his head.

"Oh well. Oh, and, by the way, Gil." Matthew said casually. Gilbert turned to look. "Yes, Birdy?" He said.

"What are the names of your pistols?" Gilbert blinked a couple of times, and then a look of understanding settled on his face.

"Man, Birdy, I know I'm hot and all, but do you really want to get into my pants so bad?" Matthew stared at him for a while, before finally knowing. His face flushed red and he smacked Gilbert's arm.

"NO! Dammit, Gil! I'm being serious! Your dual pistols! The silver guns you have, hanging on your belt!" He pointed at the guns. Gilbert looked at them, and then laughed.

"I know. I was just kidding, birdy. This one is called Awesome," Gilbert said brightly, pointing the left gun. Mare mouthed 'creeper' towards Matthew. Matthew stifled a giggle. "And this one is called Birdy!" Matthew felt his jaw drop. "No, I'm just kidding. I didn't name it after you." Gilbert laughed. "It's called Gilbird. Of course."

Matthew shook his head, although a smile graced his face. "Of course." They both laughed. Mare tapped her foot against the floor impatiently.

"Look, touching scene of bromance and all, but we need to go home and eat some food." Gilbert sighed, and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Alright, you whiny bitch. Back to your Victorian Manor it is." He said gruffly. Mare started to correct him.

"Actually, I live in a-"

"I DON'T GIVE A DAMN!"


	2. Mission Two: Bacon and Sausage

Their next mission was located in Sléttborg. It was a pretty city; its infrastructures and buildings were smooth, as if constructed of magic with care. It was a nice enough place, where its climate was neither too cold nor too hot. Its residents were largely welcoming, and there certainly wasn't a chance of getting kidnapped or some such.

They let Gilbert drive.

It was a huge mistake.

He was a maniac on the wheel; he would've gotten more than a couple speeding tickets, had there been any officers in sight. They couldn't do anything to dissuade him from driving so fast, but eventually, even Arthur, who could argue for hours on end, dropped the issue and only occasionally kicked the seat.

Gilbert, of course, had no idea why they were so concerned. "I'm driving just fine! You're all just not awesome enough to recognize my superior driving skills!" Never mind that he had run over a cactus, a cat's tail, a bucket, a cookie, and what looked suspiciously like lingerie; he was clearly the best driver in existence. Too bad no one would acknowledge that.

Matthew's legs curled up to his chest and his head was pressed against his knees, his arms around around his shins, honestly fearing for his life every time there was a bump on the road. Alfred wasn't much better; he clung to Arthur after the shorter man had refused to let him crawl into the relative safety of the trunk. Every time Arthur nudged him away, he scooted back, his grip tighter than before, so Arthur did his best to ignore it.

All throughout the trip, Gilbert either sang in his worst singing voice, or kept up a mostly one-sided conversation with them about the most inane of things. For example, he made an entire ten minute chat about how much he could really go for a beer, with the only replies being, "Shut up" or "Just drive."

When they finally arrived at the hotel they were to stay at, Alfred leaped away from Arthur and fumbled with opening the opposite door, even before the vehicle came to a stop. When he got it open, he unbuckled his seatbelt and literally fell to the ground. Matthew sat there for a while, feeling sick, before staggering out, clutching his stomach. Arthur calmly walked out, running a hand through his messier-than-usual hair. Gilbert rolled out, coming to a kneel in a spy movie position, his right hand curled in a fist, save for his index finger, and his left hand was out to the side, spread, just in case he was going to tilt that way and, you know, fall and dislocate his shoulder and possibly bash his head on the hard ground, which might result in a concussion.

"Gilbert," Matthew said through gritted teeth, "you are never driving again."

"Ever," Alfred added, sitting up. "It was the most horrific two hours of my life."

Arthur rubbed his eyes. "I'm just glad we didn't have to stop because some people were having an impromptu love confession." His gaze went immediately to Matthew and Gilbert, indicating who he meant, but they didn't notice.

Gilbert looked at him coolly, straightening up from his crouch. "You mean you and Al? Oh, yes, it would have been rather traumatizing, but I doubt I would have to pull over because of your steamy ardor. Birdy and I would've just ignored you." He paused. "Okay, so I might glance back once or twice, but just for the sake of curiosity."

Alfred came to his feet and smirked at him over the car roof. "Want some tips, Gilbo?"

"No―" He paused, realizing what implications his answer could have, and sneered at the blue-eyed blond. "Shut up, Alfredo sauce."

Matthew sighed. "Can we just go into the hotel already to drop off our stuff?" His voice was weak, and while he didn't look as though he might keel over at the slightest breeze, he looked as if he was about ready to puke. He decided that it must have been Gilbert's driving "skills" and not something he had eaten.

"Well, who's going to get our room key?" Gilbert piped in, seeming to be completely fine as they walked into the hotel.

"I will." Arthur said, glancing at Matthew and Alfred, both looking as though they needed to puke- and fast. "I am the most fit and responsible one out of all of us. And you, Gilbert," Arthur added in warning, stabbing his finger into Gilbert's direction, "don't. Do. A. Thing."

Gilbert, of course, promptly ran to the nearest wall next to him and smashed over a vase.

Arthur groaned. Gilbert gave an innocent grin.

"That will be 20 silvers, sir." A blond woman, looking immaculate in her dark blue suit, gave a bright, plastic-like smile. Arthur fished in his pockets and managed to pull out a couple. She pocketed it and walked away, not teetering over her 4-inch high black stilettos.

"Alfred, watch him-" Arthur stopped mid-sentence as he saw that Alfred was slowly growing green. "Okay, forget about that. Alfred, go and puke in the toilet stall." Alfred gave a half-hearted mock salute and ran off into the washroom. "Matthew, you stay." Matthew was sneaking off to the washroom as well, but stopped. He groaned. He didn't look as bad as Alfred, but still looked quite weak in the knees. He slumped down on a plush chair. "Watch him." It was an order, not a request. Matthew grumbled.

"Yes, mom." Arthur spluttered, and gave him a glare. He walked off towards the clerk, scuffing his boots against the marble floor as he went.

"Hey, Gilbert-" Matthew turned around, and noticed that the albino had already left. He sighed. This whole thing felt too cliche-movie ending to him. He absentmindedly wondered whether or not to chase after him when Alfred re-appeared, looking a lot better already.

"Hi, bro." Matthew greeted.

"Hey, Mat." Alfred looked around. "Where'd your lover go?"

"Who?" Matthew questioned, before finally registering what he meant. He opened his mouth to correct him, but a figurative lightbulb flashed above his head. "Oh, you mean Arthur?" He turned his head to look at Arthur, purposely acting as though he were checking him out. "Oh, yes, he's quite..." He let the sentence trail off, his eyebrows raising.

Alfred gaped at him, his mouth forming a little 'o' of surprise. He was slow in regaining his composure. "W-what have you done to him?"

Matthew smirked evilly. "Let me rephrase that for you: what haven't I done?"

"Nooo!" Alfred looked as though he might gag. "I can't even trust my own brother anymore!"

He rolled his eyes before punching Alfred lightly on the arm in a just-kidding kind of way. "Anyway, Gilbert ran off. I dunno where to. And Arthur just told me to watch him, too." Matthew pushed his bangs back warily. Alfred looked from Arthur to him, and then back at Arthur. "Fine. Ditch me for Artie. It's totally cool."

There was a moment of hesitation, but Alfred gave a big smile. "Thanks, bro! Knew I could count on you!" He gave Matthew a slap on the back, which almost made Matthew fall down. Alfred ran over to Arthur in a ridiculous way, sort of how children ran when their parents had candy for them.

"Birdy!" Matthew looked up, about to glare, until something was shoved into his hands. Matthew looked down, and saw that it was...

"Water?" Matthew said, surprised.

"Yeah. It's for you." Gilbert said, laughing casually enough, but it had a bit of an anxious edge to it. "Since Arthur's making you baby-sit me instead of puking your guts out, as you should right about now, I figured this is the least I could do for you."

Matthew felt, oddly enough, touched. "Thanks, Gil."

"Anything for you, birdy."

Matthew was too happy in drinking his water to notice the nicer tone Gilbert used when he spoke to him. Then he nearly choked, and the cup shook violently, spilling a bit of the water on the carpet. He went into a coughing fit; Gilbert just sort of stood there, paralyzed, trying to remember how you help someone choking. Thankfully, Matthew seemed to be shunned by the light at the end of the tunnel, because after a few more coughs, he was fine. He looked up at the red-eyed man with watery eyes and said thickly, "I blame this all on you."

Gilbert jumped a bit, startled by his words. "What―why?"

"You got me a drink," Matthew pointed out, "and I almost died trying to drink it." He jabbed a finger in his friend's direction. "Therefore, it's all your fault."

"That's a shit conclusion." Gilbert snorted, shaking his head. Ah, fuck it. Let the kid have his fun. He leaned over to ruffle the boy's hair. "All right, whatever. It's all my fault. You still feel like puking?"

Matthew scrunched up his nose, thinking. "Not rea―"

"OH, MY GOD, ARTHUR, HOW COULD YOU DO THAT TO MATTIE?" Alfred's voice boomed out, interrupting the rest of his brother's sentence. "I THOUGHT HE WAS JOKING!" A few people glowered at his boisterous disbelief, but the majority of them seemed more amused than irritated.

"Scratch that," Matthew managed to say, shoving Gilbert out of the way as he rushed to the restroom.

* * *

Arthur had gotten them two rooms, both with two beds. They had decided who would room with who using a copper that they would flip twice. If Arthur got heads both times, he would room with Matthew; if he got two tails, then he would room with Gilbert; if he got heads and tails, then he'd room with Alfred.

He flipped two heads. Of course.

Alfred was outraged. "You guys can't be in the same room alone! Who knows what you'd do?"

"Calm down, tiger," Gilbert said, patting his shoulder. "Birdy would never let Eyebrows over there do anything."

"You didn't hear what Mattie said, though!"

Arthur and Matthew exchanged a look and began walking toward their room, paying no mind to their two bickering teammates. "What did you tell Alfred?" Arthur asked when he opened the door, a little smirk playing on his lips. "When he walked over to me, he demanded to know what you and I have done when he and Gilbert left us alone."

Matthew set his bags on the bed nearest the door, waving his hand airily. "He was all, 'Where's your lover?' So I asked, 'Oh, you mean Arthur?'"

"Oh." Arthur blinked, placing his stuff on the remaining bed. "Well, since he appears to still believe you, I assume there will be plenty of time for teasing during this assignment."

The younger man's jaw dropped. He hadn't realized Arthur had a sense of humor. He closed his mouth and smiled. "He's so going to hate us after this."

"When has that ever stopped you?"

That left Matthew speechless for a few moments, until finally, he conceded, "Good point."

Arthur nodded, glancing at the curtained window. He was back to being all business. "There's still a few hours of daylight left. We should investigate the disappearances, and solve it either tonight or in the morning."

Matthew smiled wryly. "Al would probably prefer it be in the morning. Defeating monsters at night are too much like those horror films he's so scared of." He mentioned his brother specifically because he knew he and Arthur had some sort of chemistry, whether they admitted it or not. Then again, he mused, he shouldn't really kindle it; he had his own secret affections, and if someone tried to help him out, he wasn't sure how he'd react.

"He's only one of the four of us," Arthur replied, thankfully not privy to Matthew's thoughts. "If you and Gilbert are in agreement about tonight, then we will fight tonight. I'm not going to delay the completion of our mission simply because of one person's fears."

"We're fighting the incubus. You can't expect him not to be scared." Matthew's smile was gone, replaced by a frown. His eyebrows were knitted together, and he looked as though he might put his hands on his hips and scold him for being so uncaring. It looked as though their cordiality was drawing to a close.

Dammit. Only they would have an argument based on Alfred.

* * *

"This is shit."

Gilbert looked at Alfred, who was currently rolled up in a ball on his bed, shaking his head back and forth.

"This is shit. This is shit. This is shit. This is-" Gilbert smacked Alfred with a pillow.

"Shut up!" Gilbert said, exasperated. "If you're so against it, you should just check them at their room."

"Good point!" Alfred's face lit up, and the a look of horror crossed his face. "OH MY GOD! But... but... the instant I leave the room, what if Mattie jumps on Arthur?"

"What if Eyebrows jumps on Birdy?" Gilbert mimicked Alfred. "What if Birdy got PREGNANT? Oh my god! Shut up. Let's just go over there and talk about a battle plan. If you want, we can just crash their night of romance and have them bring extra blankets and pillows." Despite Gilbert's mocking tone, he was slightly wondering about what Matthew said to Alfred.

"OH MAN! You're so awesome, Gilbert! Yes! That's what we shall do!" Alfred pumped his fist into the air. "Operation, Make Sure They Don't Jump On Each Other shall commence!"

Gilbert groaned.

However, they were at Arthur and Matthew's door within minutes, equipped with two pillows each. When they didn't open the door when they yelled for them to, Alfred simply kicked down the door. It took a few tries, but it worked. The scene they walked in on was shocking.

Matthew was lying under Arthur, his face red, and he was laughing, one of his hands nearly hitting the wall in an attempt to keep the remote out of Arthur's reach. His other hand was pushing at Arthur's chin. Arthur's legs were on either side of his, his shirt lifting slightly as he reached toward the remote, his other hand on Matthew's shoulder. One knee was lifted slightly, as if about to knee Matthew in the groin.

They had frozen when the door had been kicked down. The hand shoving Arthur away slowly dropped, and Arthur put his leg back down. They both looked sort of horrified when they looked at their companions.

Alfred broke the silence. "See? I told you!" he exclaimed to Gilbert, sounding on the brink of hysteria.

"Oh, no, love," Arthur said, looking back at Matthew, winking with the eye that their two friends couldn't see. "They've found out."

Matthew caught on. "Artiebuns, he'll tear us apart!" He slung his free arm around Arthur's neck.

"Don't leave me, sugarplum!"

"Never, Artiekins," Matthew promised, gazing at Arthur in a decidedly flirty fashion.

Gilbert and Alfred were still staring. They couldn't think of anything to say. Apparently, Alfred's plan had failed before it could even really begin. Gilbert was the first to recover.

"Looks like your plan failed." Gilbert finally said. Alfred ran forward and wrenched Matthew's hand away from Arthur's neck, and pulled Matthew away from Arthur.

"What are you doing, Al?" Matthew said, groaning. "Why are you separating me from my dear lovebug?"

"H-he's not your 'dear lovebug', Mattie!" Alfred said, sounding rather hysteric. "What happened to you? WHAT DID YOU DO TO ARTHUR?"

"Why are you assuming that poppet here did anything to ME?" Arthur said, amused. "I believe that it was me who seduced sweetheart."

"...SWEETHEART? SWEETHEART?" Gilbert finally de-froze himself from his position. He didn't seem to believe it, but still acted a bit testily.

"YOU- WHA- ART- MAT- we're staying here tonight." Arthur and Matthew looked surprised.

"What! But I paid for two rooms!" Arthur exclaimed.

"I can't leave my brother- my own, baby brother-"

"Twin," Matthew corrected.

"My TWIN brother, alone with you, Arthur!" Alfred shouted.

"Actually, I'm pretty sure you just don't want me to be alone with snugglefluffykins." Matthew said, trying to hold back a smirk, but failing badly.

"You should leave our budding romance alone. Right, ducky?" Arthur swung an arm around Matthew.

"That's too similar to MY nickname for him!" Gilbert ran forward, dislodging himself from the seemingly permanent spot in the middle of the floor and pushed Arthur down. Before Arthur could hit the floor, Alfred reached him in lightning speed and caught him. Gilbert pulled Matthew away. "God, you guys are such fags." Gilbert sighed.

Matthew resisted the urge to kick him. "Keeping him away from me is like tearing my soul in half," he declared with conviction, holding his remote up in place of a clenched fist. "Anyway, you and Al are more like the fags here. I mean, you kicked down the freaking door-"

"I'm not paying for that," Arthur announced quickly.

"Shhh, my love," Matthew said in a stage whisper. "Anyway, you kicked down the door to a room with two guys. What if one of us had been naked? What then? Would you have stood there and stared?"

Alfred coughed. "Matt, that's not a good example."

Matthew nodded, as though his brother had answered the question in a satisfactory way. "Exactly. You would have stood there and stared, Al, only if it was Arthur."

Alfred's face became the color of red berries, and, at a loss of what to say, he looked at Arthur, who was determinedly staring at a wall. His face flushed a shade redder, and he directed his gaze back to Matthew. "Apparently, I'm not the only one."

Gilbert made an 'ooh' sound. "Can I be included in the conversation again? It seems so un-awesome without me in there."

"Fine." Alfred looked at him. "You would've stared at Mattie!"

Matthew abruptly wheezed. "E-excuse me?"

Gilbert had much the same reaction (except, you know, he didn't say anything as lame as 'excuse me?').

"That's right!" Alfred rambled on, trying to fill up the awkwardness. "Yes! You would've been staring at my brother's junk- and it's a perfectly fine piece, as well, so no worries, since we're brothers, and we're twins, so of course his will be fine as hell, oh, but I'm not into incest, so don't worry about it, Gilbert, you'll have your little bird all to yourself- OH MY GOD YOU CALL MY BROTHER A BIRD, WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DO TO HIM? Is this a weird kink, oh, my god, Gilbert, I'm so- Matthew, be careful, and-"

Matthew threw the remote at Alfred's head. Alfred quickly dodged it.

"Anyway, what was I saying? Oh right, Gilbert, no BDSM, okay, like seriously, and Arthur, keep your hands off my brother's junk, or maybe Matthew, you should keep your hands off from Arthur's magnificent piece of- wait, what, I mean no, I mean-"

"ASSIGNMENT. We came here for a mission. Remember?" Arthur said, exasperated. Alfred nodded rapidly.

"Yes, fo shizzles, anyway, Matthew, SIT ON THAT STOOL, Gilbert, BETWEEN HIM AND ARTHUR, and I'll sit on ARTHUR'S SIDE." Before they could protest, Gilbert dragged Matthew over to the stool and Alfred plopped himself down at Arthur's side.

"Anyway, I guess we should get to work." Arthur very deliberately got up and placed the papers on top of the desk, which just happened to be next to Matthew. Matthew stood up and peered over his shoulder, and looped his arm around Arthur's waist.

"OKAY! From now on, no homo. Please." Alfred sidled next to Arthur, and Gilbert pushed in-between Matthew and Arthur, his arms on both of their shoulders. Arthur quickly got down to business.

"We're fighting against the incubus. I suppose you know of them?" That was met by an affirmative from violet eyes, and two blank stares from red and blue eyes. Arthur sighed. "You know, during Defense against Seducers?" Still nothing. "Do I have to start from the beginning?" Two firm head nods, and one head shake. Arthur pushed his bangs back, and began to explain.

"An incubus, which means 'nightmare' in Latin, is a demon in male form who, according to a number of mythological and legendary traditions, lies upon sleepers, especially women, in order to have sex with them. Its female counterpart is the succubus. An incubus may pursue sexual relations with a woman in order to father a child. Repeated intercourse with Incubus can lead to deterioration of health, and even death. After further research, it is confirmed that an incubus and a succubus is the same demon, just that they are able to change from female to male-"

"OH MY GOD! Imagine being able to do that!" Alfred said, in awe. "It's like, 'Oh, I don't want a dick anymore... maybe I'll switch!'" He quickly shut up after receiving the glare from Arthur.

"Anyway," Arthur continued, "Incubi have also taken refuge in women and men's body. We can get rid of them using exorcism."

"That's just great." Gilbert said, sighing. "We don't have a single exorcist."

"Hello, who do you think you're talking to?" Arthur huffed.

"A stuck up faggot who has huge eyebrows?" That comment was met with a slap in the face.

"NO! I'm an O student, remember? I can do an exorcism." Arthur said.

"So what's the assignment?" Matthew asked. Arthur's eyes darkened.

"What else? To get rid of them."

Matthew raised his eyebrows. "Man, you should've said something we could've taken inappropriately."

Arthur flushed. "Who do you think I am?"

"I don't know, my secret lover?"

Gilbert snorted. "It's not so secret anymore."

Alfred looked bewildered. "Wait, how long has this even gone on, anyway?"

It was amazing how fast they could get off track.

Arthur rolled his eyes and looked at Matthew. Matthew gave a tiny nod, so Arthur heaved a sigh. "We've had a secret affair going on ever since we sat beside each other when we were fifteen. We found each other attractive, and we got to know each other. Our infatuation became deeper and deeper until we kept trysts from about a year ago, when we were chosen to be in the same team. We shagged quite regularly until we discovered something."

He paused, looking around at his teammates. They were all staring at him intently.

Taking a breath, he launched back into his story. "Remember Diego? He and Matthew shared that one food Alfred likes. I opened the door to Matthew's room, anticipating what would occur next, but those thoughts left me when I saw them..." His voice trailed off. "I pulled Diego off and kicked him out. Matthew was still clothed, but he was crying. From what I could get from his sobbing, Diego had less than pure thoughts about him." The anger in his voice sounded so real that it was hard to believe he was making it all up (not that Alfred and Gilbert knew, of course).

"I never trusted that guy," Gilbert muttered.

Arthur looked down at his hands. "Our trysts meant something... more after that." A faint smile graced his face. "We fell in love, I suppose you could say."

Matthew was more than astonished at his excellent acting, and decided to spare him from having to think of even more details. "That's why we kept it from you guys. We thought it would be awkward for you two to know that we were..." He glanced down before looking up at them from under his lashes, an act he had learned from a few girls. "You know."

"And so, today, you caught us before we could even snog," Arthur finished. "I hope you are satisfied."

Once again, he had left Gilbert and Alfred speechless.

* * *

"Do you think we went too far?" Matthew whispered into Arthur's ear. Alfred let out a low groan. Of course, to him, it would seem more like a sentence of love than a confession of guilt.

"Possibly." Arthur hesitated, then gave a glance back. Alfred and Gilbert started to talk- although quietly, so that Arthur and Matthew couldn't hear.

"It's sad, ain't it. That your brother got laid before you did." Alfred flushed red, and punched Gilbert's arm.

"Shut up! We're the same age!"

"He got on with the guy you liked."

"Well, HE got on with the guy YOU liked."

"Guess we can only shag each other now, eh. Now that they've hooked up."

"...I seriously hope you're just kidding."

"'Course I am. Like hell I'd get it on with you."

"Ouch."

"Didn't mean it like that."

"Okay. ...I'm still hot though, right?"

"For a gay guy."

"You're gay, too."

"Well, I guess we're both pretty hot, then."

"Fuck ja."

They high-fived after that. Matthew gave a look of amusement, and then talked loudly, for the whole group to hear.

"So, what do we do? To get rid of the incubus?" Matthew asked. They were outside the hotel, walking along the streets. People in Sléttborg dressed differently than in Veturborg. In Veturborg, the villagers dressed in button-down dress shirts, tucked into their trousers, with vests and knee-high boots. Girls usually wore a stiff frock of muslin, lace-up boots and probably skipping and singing the tune to 'My Shiny Teeth and Me' (or some other cheery tune). The Nobles would be in appropriate attire, woven from silk or other high-quality cloth, attending to parties and wearing top-hats, swinging their black canes or white umbrellas.

In Sléttborg, everyone was wearing long, brightly-colored coats, elaborate face-paint, and had the hugest, whitest smile ever. They also drove in nice cars, all shiny and brand-new. Everyone looked as though they were having the time of their lives. It was odd how such a metropolitan-looking city had probably the most flamboyant citizens they had ever seen.

"Incubus, basically, enjoy sex." Arthur explained casually. "So we should go to a place where people like to get it on with other complete strangers."

They all looked at each other, before unanimously saying, "Red Light District."

The red light district wasn't particularly large, but it was packed full with people. Everywhere they looked, there was someone there; a few scantily-clad women looked at them flirtatiously, but when they didn't get a response, they simply moved on to another possible patron. Gilbert threw his hands up, tossing a glare at the last woman who had checked him out. "How the hell are we supposed to catch a hooker incubus if everyone here is a whore?"

Matthew shrugged. "I'd suggest we all take hookers until we find the incubus, but I don't think that would be healthy or appropriate for this situation." He smiled sheepishly at their expressions. "I was kidding, you guys."

"That's good," Alfred said, uncharacteristically serious. "We need to get down to business. We should split up. Do you guys have your transeivers?" When they nodded, he gave a curt one of his own. "Okay. Split up into duos or individually?"

Arthur pursed his lips. "I would suggest we each go our own way, if only because it is more likely we will be approached when alone than with someone." He glanced over at a few prostitutes. "Tell me when you find the incubus. Don't let them out of your sight once you know what they are, do you understand? And please," he added, his gaze turned to Alfred and Gilbert specifically, "don't give them reason to be suspicious."

"Right!" Alfred said cheerfully. "So, Matthew, be careful! You heard the man!"

Matthew stared at him. Arthur did a facepalm. Gilbert whistled, and waved at a female prostitute. Or male. It was hard to tell at the angle.

"Alright, let's each take different directions." Arthur said. "North looks like it has a lot of Cabaret Clubs. You know, the ones with hosts and stuff? That would be expensive, but it would be even more expensive if you had individual hosts. Or hostesses, whatever strikes your fancy. You should just check the outskirts of the club. I'm pretty sure we can all sense it if something is off. South has bars with hookers, strippers, whatever. You have to throw down money and stuff towards them as well. Not sure if they let their 'employees' have a quick fuck, but still, better be safe than sorry. West has the most easiest district- prostitutes. All over. You just pick the girl or boy you like, leave cash, use a condom, and they have a little box of sex toys-"

"I'm not even going to bother HOW you know that." Gilbert said, raising his eyebrow. Arthur's face reddened, and then he coughed into his hand.

"Moving on," he continued warily, "Besides those whores, there is the East. It's the most illegal and unsafe district. Lots of shady businesses down there. They don't even bother asking where they got their people from, they just buy slaves. Slaves from all over the world, even from other countries. They also have supernatural creatures as well. There's also heavy drug overdose, cigarette smoking, bets, the black market... it's pretty damn horrifying. So different from the rest of the city here." Arthur shook his head. "So you have to get used to gropes and the smell of weird concoctions. They go after anyone with a decent body, male or female, aged 7 to 26."

"That's creepy as hell." Alfred crinkled his nose.

"The perfect place for incubus to hide out." Arthur deadpanned. "So, who wants to take what?"

No one said anything for a while. Arthur sighed.

"I'll take East. I don't mean to brag, but I'm pretty sure I would have the most experience out of all of us." Arthur yanked on his gloves, concealing his ring. "Alfred, go North. Gilbert takes South. Mattie takes-"

"Mattie? MATTIE?" Alfred shrieked. "That's MY nickname for him!"

"Look, drop it for now!" Arthur snapped at him. "SNUGGLEBUNNY will take West. Contact us the second you spot the incubus. We'll be on it within a minute. No one have too much to drink." He stared pointedly at Gilbert, who pointedly ignored him. "If worst comes to worst, yank off your limits."

"Easy for you to say. You have a ring." Gilbert groaned.

Nonetheless, they went their separate ways without any more objections. Gilbert kicked the curb. He bet Arthur gave Matthew West only because it was supposedly the easiest part of it. He'd punch the fucker in the face when this was over. He sidled into a bar, flashing a smile at two women standing in front of it. It couldn't hurt to flirt a bit.

The smell was the worst. It was less like a fragrance than what the air was made of. He crinkled his nose; the stench was heavy, pressing down on him. It was hard to describe it. It wasn't unpleasant, per se, but it was in such a large quantity that it was overwhelming. No one else seemed affected by it. It must be some local thing.

Weird concoctions. He thought Arthur had just been talking about their drinks.

He whistled lowly upon noticing the strippers. Hot damn, they were... well, hot. No matter which way he swung, he knew beauty when he saw it. There were some men mixed in with the women, but his eyes were drawn to the females. Huh. Either he just saw too many guys to be affected by all but one of them, or he was still attracted to women.

He pinched himself. He had to focus. With that thought in mind, he looked around, never focusing on one thing for too long, but taking it all in. Incubus, incubus. What the hell did an incubus look like, anyway? He had no idea if he should look for a man or a woman. He should've paid attention during that seduction class, or whatever the hell it was.

He cursed himself. He had a lot of work to do. Thanks, self. Past him was really the best. Honestly, he couldn't live without it. Literally.

He made his way to the bar itself, glancing at the drinks of everyone he passed. They were all foreign to him. He guessed people in Sléttborg knew how to party. He smiled charmingly at the bartender, a stout woman appearing to be in her thirties. "Don't suppose you've got any Eldurborg beer, do you?" Eldurborg beer was renowned for being the best beer around. There wasn't really a way to describe it other than paradise on your tastebuds. It was the go-to beer, you could say.

The woman cracked a smile, dimples showing. "As a matter of fact, we do." She turned to get a mug, and filled it nearly to the brim with the amber liquid. She turned back around and set it on the counter. "That'll be three coppers and a silver."

He handed over the coins, and took a gulp of the beer as he sat down on a cherry-red stool. He sighed contentedly. "Thanks, ma'am."

"No need to thank me." She raised an eyebrow at him, setting her elbows on the counter. "You don't seem like the type to frequent places like this. Did your friends drag you here or are you not here to watch the show?" She indicated the stage with a jerk of her chin.

He sniffed disdainfully. "Oh, no. I'm here to watch the bitches flash their tits and dicks. What would make you think otherwise?"

The woman's other eyebrow met the first. "Do you really want me to answer that?"

"No." Gilbert lifted the mug, his brows knitting together, before setting it back down, his forehead smoothing. "Do ya mind if I ask you a few questions?" When she shook her head, he tapped his fingers against the glass. "Do any of the strippers in this place leave with someone and come back without 'em?"

Her eyebrows dropped back down, and there were two vertical lines between them. "Once or twice, maybe. Why?" Her tone made it clear she was beginning to become suspicious.

He shook his head, ignoring her question. "Can you tell me which ones do it?"

"Only if you tell me why you're asking."

He picked his mug up and drained it. He licked his lips. "Okay, I get it. You won't tell me. Whatever. I can go ask someone else." He started to get up, muttering something about how he was always wrong about people being semi-awesome, but she took hold of his wrist. He shook off her grip and glared at her. "What? Did you decide you're going to help me now?"

She sighed. "You are such an amateur." She frowned at him. "Didn't your parents tell you not to speak to your elders like that?"

He shrugged. "They're dead, so no."

The bartender didn't have much sympathy. "No wonder. No self-respecting mother or father would let their child be this sassy." She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, lowering her voice to help make sure not many people would hear them, if any. "You're not even very good at hiding your occupation. What grade do you even have?"

Gilbert started, surprised. "Wh..." He tried to calm himself down, but knew it was futile. He couldn't deny it now. He seemed to deflate a bit. "Why does everyone have to mess me up today?" he mumbled grumpily before raising his voice to slightly below its normal pitch. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Are you gonna help me or not, lady?"

She glowered at him. "Don't take that tone with me, young man, or I'll let you do this yourself." She looked startlingly like Elizaveta in that moment, and Gilbert experienced a moment of being torn between wanting to piss his pants and being glad he trusted her with this knowledge. "Anyway, I've narrowed it down to two gals. Their names are Passion and Coral. Passion wears red; Coral wears pink. Can't miss them. They're flashy as hell." She inclined her head to somewhere between her left and right ahead of her. "They're around there somewhere. They're usually relatively close to each other."

He nodded slowly. "Thanks, lady." He stood up to leave, but stopped and smirked at her. "Mind refilling my mug? Might as well have refreshments if I'm gonna be staring at two hot hos for a while."

She shook her head in mild exasperation, but she refilled it anyway with a small smile on her face. "Be careful not to get too drunk. You'll want to stay alert."

He grinned at her, not bothering to reply, and made his way to the area she had indicated. He spotted Passion and Coral straight-away; they were indeed flashy in more ways than one. The first thing he really noticed about them was that their make-up was very glittery. He was ashamed of himself for that first observation. He could have noticed their bodies, but no. He noticed their goddamn make-up. Kill him now.

The second thing was their eyes. They were absolutely stunning, Gilbert had to admit. They were large and rimmed with thick, dark lashes, and despite the glittery matte makeup, it looked natural and seducing. Passion's eyes were dark green, with a gold starburst in the middle. Flecks of yellow ghosted over her eyes, and she looked playful and inviting. Coral's eyes were a deep blue, and it had shimmery purple flecks all around it. They looked somewhat like the night sky. They were busy chatting up with some sleazy looking men, all in their forties, which was gross as hell to look at. Passion didn't seem to mind at all; in fact, she seemed to look forward to it. Or maybe because she was currently holding about 24 gold pieces, probably gifts from them.

Coral had a more reserved expression. She was glancing around the room, as if looking for younger prey. Suddenly, she locked eyes with Gilbert. Gilbert's cocky grin widened, and he waved. She waved back, her smile reaching her eyes. She flipped her platinum blonde hair back, which cascaded down to her waist prettily. Her strapless black bustier top had a white lacey corset, showing off her hourglass shape. She was not wearing a thong, but skin-tight leather shorts. Her hooker boots, reaching her thigh, was laced up properly and tightly, showing off her thin legs. She had a black fluffy boa, and a large chunky bracelet on her arm.

Sure, she was sexy as hell, probably the exact pornstar men jerk off to in bathrooms, and could totally grace any copy of Playboy magazine, but Gilbert didn't feel a single thing. Not even a pounding down south. He wasn't sure if he should be glad, or be alarmed at this development.

He strode up to the group, all confidence. "Excuse me, gentlemen," he said to the older men, "but may I join you in talking to these ladies?" His unnatural crimson eyes sparkled, giving the impression of mischief.

Despite that, one of the men shook his head with a smile. "Go ahead, kid," he allowed affably. "Can't exactly blame you." Passion tittered at the half-compliment, while Coral blushed prettily.

"Thanks, boys," Passion said with a grin. She had a drawl, typical of those originally from Blando Pueblo, which was near the southern tip of their country, Aleyrn. "Y'all are so sweet. I could just eat y'all up." She fluttered her eyelashes, giggling, making it clear there were several interpretations to her remark.

Gilbert smirked and sank down into the only unoccupied chair there, nursing his beer and looking vaguely uncomfortable.

Coral laughed, a soft sound that could be described poetically like the tinkling of a charming little bell. "No need to be shy, love." She leaned forward, giving the men a great view of her cleavage. Gilbert tittered nervously. Coral's eyes trailed down to his crotch, which was not pulsing, or slightly larger. She frowned.

Gilbert mentally slapped himself. What happened to his confidence? Somehow, it felt as though it was all drained away. What did that class teach again? The Defense against Seducers course? That retarded thing?

_Don't look in their eyes in their full form. You'll immediately get sucked in and powerless._

Well, isn't that just peachy. It was pretty much impossible to not look in their eyes.

"This your first time?" She practically purred, using her hand to touch his arm. Gilbert yanked it away in surprise, and Coral blinked, her heavily-lidded eyes giving off an air of annoyance.

"Sex? No." He said, laughing. "But if you mean this kind of stripper bar, then yes." He motioned to the poles, where a bunch of girls were prancing around in lingerie, giving drooling men some air kisses.

"Oh, you little one..." She said seductively. "Then I must give you a... proper treatment, yes? It'll be on me..." She stood up, and ran her fingers over his toned abs. Gilbert shivered at the touch, and felt like grabbing a few drinks and getting the hell out of here. But he was on a mission.

"Alright, then. What are we waiting for?" He got up and looped his arm on her waist. She giggled sweetly, and did the same, except for the fact the her hands were a bit too close to his ass than he would like. The old men gaped, and started to pull out their money, as though hoping for Passion to do the same to them. Gilbert kept his eyes trained to the front, and nodded slightly to the bartender.

What he didn't notice, however, was the fact that Coral turned her head, and winked at Passion.

* * *

Matthew walked down the street, hesitantly looking around. Arthur wasn't kidding when he said it was a Prostitute street. There were whores everywhere; on the floor, madly kissing some men; standing, running their hands over their thighs and D-cup breasts, snugly fitted in lacy lingerie; there was even some pot stands, selling everything from ecstasy to a bunch of... clumps that Matthew had no idea what the fuck it was. He couldn't help but shudder when he noticed that a bunch of men (albeit very, VERY attractive men, but still) winking at him, wearing unbuttoned shirts and thigh-high boots.

He did a quick scan of the area. There was nothing otherworldly in there. He wouldn't be surprised if he had walked around for the whole day and nothing showed up. What kind of incubus would do such a thing? No matter how much they enjoyed sex...

Suddenly, he stopped. Facing, on the right of him, was a boy. He looked about 19, but it was hard to tell. His hair was platinum blond, and it reached a little past his chin. His skin was rather like alabaster, pale and white, and almost... glowing. Not retarded and sparkling, but more like... unnatural.

Rather unsettling, actually.

His shirt was open, his pale skin covered in angry red marks, either made by hickeys or whips. His jeans were riding low (by low, he meant very low), ripped and covered in blood. He either had a rough time, or it was because...

He didn't even want to think about it.

His mouth opened, and he blurted out without meaning to, "What happened to you?" He grimaced as soon as the words left his mouth. Yeah. Just go talk to a possibly raped man. No, don't look at the other possible candidates. Talk to a man that looked as though he had come out of a painting.

The man managed a smile. "Can't you tell?" There was something odd about his voice. He had an accent, sure, but that wasn't it.

Matthew couldn't afford to think long about it. "Do you, uh, need help?" He cursed his duty as a good citizen. He could have walked on by, but no. He just had to ask questions. What if he got led into a dark alley by this guy and was molested? He wouldn't be able to live with himself. He'd eat Arthur's cooking. That would simultaneously make Arthur happy and effectively commit suicide.

"No." The hooker stood up straighter. "Unless you want to do me. That would help."

Matthew took an involuntary step back. "U-uh..."

The hooker scrutinized him for a while. "New meat, eh." He finally said. "I see that you've never had sex before."

Matthew flushed. "What! I ha-" He stopped, and thought about it. Did he really? Maybe with that chick called Belle. He was pretty sure that he had drunk sex before, but nothing really striked a memory. Although, judging by the grins he received after a party, he was quite sure that he had possibly made out with people he did not know.

"Well, what about with a prostitute?" The hooker stepped forward and looped his arm around Matthew's waist, slyly touching his ass. Matthew yelped, and bit his lip. Why, oh why did they accept this mission?

Because this had a lot of credits. Right.

"You know, I'll enjoy sinking my teeth into you... what a rare chance..." His head dipped down onto the crook of Matthew's neck, his breath ghosting over it. He shivered, and felt the other's cold hand sliding under his shirt. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

And do not, DO NOT, say how ironic that word sounded right about now.

"S-sinking your teeth? I have no idea what you're trying to say..." Matthew pushed him gently, reaching for his limit, a silver cuff on his left arm.

"Yes you do, you little demon slayer..." He whispered it into his ear, and nibbled it. Matthew gave a sharp intake of breath, and all of a sudden, his left arm was pinned onto his back, his head facing the wall.

"Now let me enjoy my meal."


	3. Mission Two and a Half: Fish and Chips

**Kawaii: **Hello, hello! Welcome to the third chapter! It's pretty insane, eh? Well, maybe not to you, but to me, yes. I personally feel pretty okay about this chapter. Ahah. Also, have you read Pineapple Desu's story Coffee Shop? If you haven't, read it. Now. And while you're at it, read my story too. It's not as insane as you think. /shamelessly advertising. Thank you, and please tell us what you think about this chapter by leaving a review, down there... down thereeeee...

Pineapple: SPEAKING OF SHAMELESS ADVERTISING... Hey, guys! Mind if I ask you something? Ruby and I want an England (well, mostly me). The requirements are on our profile page if you're interested. We get into character a lot, you see, and we fight over Artie a lot. If we could get an England, that would be great! You don't necessarily have to be an RPer; you just need to be able to get in character. Uh. Yeah. Enjoy this chapter!

* * *

There was something wrong.

Well, of course there was something wrong. There were drugs, women and men of different colors, some with angel wings, others having odd tails. The sky was pitch black, and yet the glowing red lanterns made the place eerily crimson. Moans and groans were loud, and he could even HEAR the vibrators.

But no. It wasn't that sort of wrong.

It was how he couldn't really sense Gilbert and Matthew anymore.

Okay, he couldn't exactly pinpoint their exact location. But he could see their movements of their... let's just say souls. Arthur couldn't see things when it was concealed. And there wasn't a reason for Matthew and Gilbert to conceal themselves. His hand casually reached to his ear, and he pressed the transceiver that was embedded into his ear.

_"Alfred foshizzles Jones, at your service!" _Alfred's bright and happy voice was louder than usual, as though he was trying to yell over the noise.

"Alfred? It's Arthur." Arthur said quietly.

_"WHAT?" _Alfred yelled even louder. Arthur winced.

"IT'S ARTHUR, YOU DIPSHIT!" Arthur yelled.

_"WOAH! No need to be so PMS-y and loud, Artie." _Alfred chuckled. Arthur rubbed his temples in irritation, trying to keep his temper in check.

"I can't feel Matthew's and Gilbert's... souls." Arthur said. Alfred stopped talking for a while.

_"...How the fuck do you FEEL-"_

"LOOK!" Arthur practically screamed. A couple of prostitutes swiveled their heads to him, but quickly returned back to their duties. "THEY MIGHT'VE BEEN RAPED AND DEAD ABOUT A MILLION TIMES ALREADY!" There was another considerably longer silence.

_"How do they die more than-"_

"You know what? Forget it." Arthur snarled. "If you don't care about your brother's wellbeing, fine. If you don't care about your teammate's sanity, fine. I'll deal with it-"

_"Sorry, Arthur." _Alfred sounded much more serious now. _"So what do you think we should do?"_

"We should try to contact them. You get albino, I'll get purple eyes. No complaining." Arthur could even FEEL Alfred's next remark.

_"Alright. Break!" _He declared, and hung up. Arthur quickly pressed on the transceiver again, praying to every single God he knew, (even the God of Second Chances) that they were alright. He was met with a long dial tone.

Obviously, no one was on his side this time.

_"Arthur, no answer." _Alfred's voice broke his train of thought. Arthur nodded, before realizing that Alfred couldn't see.

"Same here. I think we should check up on them." Arthur thought for a second. "Gilbert's soul seemed to be concealed more. I think he might have two or more incubus around. I'll go to him. You go check up on Matthew."

_"Alright."_

Arthur gritted his teeth, and ran to the opposite direction, ignoring the looks of contempt and surprise.

He also ignored the look of hunger and lust, from a pair of glowing, crimson eyes.

He tried to concentrate on what he couldn't sense. Okay, so Gilbert was obviously still with strippers and shit, but where? His legs actually began to hurt as he sprinted into the South portion of the district, his breath coming in shallow bursts. This would complicate things. He looked around wildly, before going into the first bar he saw. He went right up the bartender and asked in a wheeze, "Have you seen a guy around here, about my age, with white hair and red eyes and a cocky attitude?" What he said was nearly unintelligible, but the woman seemed to understand. When she nodded, he gasped for breath. "Did you see where he went?"

"That way," she said, pointing to her left. "He went with a stripper."

He nodded as a thank you and hurried over there. It ended up being a door, so he shoved it open, and what should he see but a ho standing over a bleeding Gilbert? She turned at the sound of the door opening. "Ári," Arthur said clearly, the word making the woman spasm, her mouth opening in a snarl, "burt með þér. Flýja frá þessum stað. Leita leið aftur til helví―"

Suddenly, a pair of slender, but strong arms, hooked onto his his, pulling him back. She leaned down, her long, dark auburn hair swishing as she went, covering her face. She bit down hard, on his left hand, causing him to yelp.

"Fuck. You didn't drop it, honey bunch." Her southern drawl came out less obvious now, and she licked her lips, moaning in pleasure. He shivered in disgust.

"My, you're quite the dashing young man." She ran her fingers over his chest, her long nails scratching softly. She leaned down, and settled her neck on the crook of his neck. "You smell nice, lad. Cologne?"

"Sweat. And the scent of whores." He snarled at her. She didn't seem at all affected.

"Hmm. Well, whores DO tend to smell nice, anyway. Coral?" She called over to the blond, who was currently circling Gilbert. Coral turned around, her brilliant midnight eyes boring down onto Arthur's torso.

"Yes, Passion?" She said sweetly.

"What do you think of me living in him?" She said, her hands drooping down onto his belt. Coral's eyes raked all over. Arthur felt as though he was getting stripped.

"Well, he's gotta be quite the nice fuck, hon." She crouched down, and brushed Gilbert's bangs away from his eyes. "I was going to have some fun with this guy, but in 2 seconds he whirled around and pointed his guns at me. He was also reaching towards his ear," at this point, she traced her finger on his jawline, all the way to his ear, and tapped at it, "but I beat him to it." She pulled out the bloodied transceiver from his ear, and crushed it between her thumb and index finger. "Shame. What a nice boy he was, too... so gentle at first..." She wrapped her arms around him, and licked his earlobe. "He has nice blood..."

Arthur slammed his foot down onto Passion's hooker boots. She yelped, loosening her grip slightly, but that was all he needed. He whirled around, and placed his hand in front of her. "Ári! Leita leið aftur til helvítis! Fara í brott!"

She gasped, her eyes bulging out, her mouth open, screaming. It was bloodcurdling, echoing loudly in the small space. She was leaning back, her arm bent at a funny angle, and her hair wild and shooting out, turning black. Her eyes were crying out blood, staining her porcelain skin, which was starting to rot away, like cigarette ash. Green arcs surrounded her body, in ancient letters, and in a blinding flash of light, she disappeared.

"YOU BITCH!" Coral screamed, and lunged at him. He quickly dodged it, making her fist drive into the wall and break it down. It left a gaping hole, the dust flying everywhere, tinting her skin and surrounding her in a hazy mist. Her hair turned from light blond into dark red, looking as though it was lit like fire, dancing wildly and brimming with energy. Her mouth widened, and rows of sharp, white teeth were apparent. She ripped off her chunky cuff, and crushed it under her hooker boots. On her arm, it had a single symbol.

A black trident.

"You killed my sister." Even her sweet voice changed. Now it was deep and gravelly, hissing and sounding as though she shot in too much cocaine. "You will pay for that." She pushed her bangs back, and her eyes turned completely red.

Like the flames of hell.

* * *

"Have you seen a guy like me?" Alfred said, panting. He pointed at himself. "Except he's more feminine looking and has wavy blonde hair." He accentuated it by making his hands make a wavy sign. The prostitute was about 16, her dark brown hair chopped to a bob, and she was wearing a see-through white dress shirt, her neck covered in hickeys.

"I'm sorry, I have not." She shook her head, but her brown eyes sparkled. "But, please, could you stay? There hasn't been a guy near my age in ages." She sighed, and wobbled unsteadily on her tired legs.

"Ahaha... I'm not into quick fucks, but here." He handed her 5 gold coins. Her eyes widened.

"This... this is so much! I cannot possibly-" He raised a hand to silence her. She immediately quieted down.

"Keep it. In fact, you should probably get out of here. Although 5 gold coins can only buy you a train ticket." He chuckled. She bowed happily and gave him a chaste kiss on the lips.

"Thank you! I wouldn't have minded earning that money from you." She called out, waltzing away. He quickly wiped the kiss away. There was time to enjoy that later. Well, actually, he was hoping for a certain cranky British man, but...

Anyway. Work first.

He wondered where the hell Matthew was. It certainly wouldn't be easy to find him with so many prostitutes. He could be fucking a random person right now, but he could also be getting killed and possessed by an incubus. He shuddered, hoping that his sweet maple-syrup eating brother of his wouldn't become some sex crazed stranger.

The worst part is that it was very likely that had happened.

His resolve hardened. There was no way in hell he would let his sibling become possessed by a dirty incubus! The only problem he had was that he couldn't exactly find him. It proved to be quite the difficult problem. He had asked around for ages, but had anyone seen him? No. He wasn't the type to get scared, but he was honestly started to fear for Matthew.

Adrenaline rushed through his veins. Okay, they were twins. He had to have some sort of twin telepathy, right? He would have closed his eyes and let his feet lead him if he weren't scared he would bump into prostitutes with each step he took.

Twin telepathy powers, activate.

He closed his eyes, and concentrated on Matthew. That wavy-haired, purple-eyed, pretty much carbon copy of him, who had the same career as him (demon slayer, fuck yeah), had an infatuation with maple syrup, who was born a complete 2.3 seconds later than him, the one who seemed to always pick the red crayon and say that America was gay and Canada was awesome (2 countries that they made up), when they had pretended to be pirates and waved their cardboard swords at the other girls.

"...no!"

Alfred's eyes shot open. He wheeled around, his ears alert, his eyes bright, recognizing that voice anywhere. It sounded strained, laced with terror, but completely human. He yanked off his limit and ran towards the dark alley, lit up by a flickering streetlamp only.

Alfred was graced with a sight he would rather not see. His brother, his shirt ripped open, with the buttons yanked off, had angry red marks on his chest. His hands were handcuffed behind his back, and his glasses were broken and discarded. He was also blindfolded, and had his pants partially down, but thankfully still had his boxers on. Blood was splattered on his hair and clothes, and his mouth was bleeding, the drops dripping down from the side. His limit was still on, which would be why he hadn't just decapitated the guy already. The man on top of his brother bit down harshly, earning a cry of alarm from Matthew. He seemed to lavish the taste and had a fetish with blood, since his platinum blonde hair was streaked with red, his shirt covered with fresh blood, which Alfred wasn't sure if it was from Matthew or some other victim. He was grinding hard against Matthew, but also seemed to yank off bits and pieces of skin here and there- from his neck to his hands, even on his inner thigh.

"Get off from my brother." Alfred's voice was eerily calm, and it sounded like there was a lot of suppressed anger in it. The man turned around, his lips curled in a half smile, his dark eyes bleeding out blood. Alfred almost recoiled from the sight, but kept his ground.

"Oh, I can see the resemblance." He tilted Matthew's chin up, and examined him closely. "But this little guy here is much prettier. Damn, he'd be a lovely house for me."

"House?" Alfred said, his eyes flashing darkly.

"You do know that we incubus like to live in our... ah, nicer victims." He ran his finger over Matthew's stomach. "Oh, he doesn't have flabs. Must work out a lot." He gave a sly grin to Alfred. "But our female counterpart, the succubus, like to go with anyone. They're such sluts." He licked Matthew's neck slowly. "But then again... we are one and the same." Suddenly, a foggy haze wrapped around him, and after it disappeared, his hair reached his chest, soft and wavy. He (or she, which she was now) had at least a C cup, and her waist shrinked. Her dark eyes became larger and seemed as though there were many layers of mascara applied on. Her jeans were now a bit too big for her.

"You disgust me." Alfred snarled.

"And you disgust me, so let's get this over with." She yanked off her dress shirt, and soon, it was replaced with a long, sleeveless trench coat, made out of... possibly leather. It was wrapped with a chained belt, covered with heads of humans. She gave a quick kiss on Matthew's lips.

"I'll be back, darling." She cooed. She unbuttoned the top of her trench coat, revealing a symbol; a black trident. "We pledge allegiance to our one and only god, the god of Death. May we thank thee for letting us out." She murmured.

Alfred ran forward, his chain saw roaring, and he jumped up, ramming his chain saw down, only to have it make a crack on the floor. The succubus laughed evilly, revealing rows of sharp, white teeth. Her dark eyes became so light they almost looked white. She was in the air, and she made a 360 turn, landing on her feet.

"You have to do better than that to beat me." She grinned, her smile disturbing.

Alfred jammed his chain saw down onto the ground, where it teared it up without a single thought, making the cracks much larger. He ran forward, making the chain saw cut through the cement, and slashed at her. She just laughed, jumping and dancing gracefully, as though this was all a game.

"Puh-lease. The Institute of the Otherworldly sure is becoming weak." She gave another laugh. It sounded horrible, all screechy, as though she was a car that stopped at the last second.

"Take that back, bitch!"

Alfred and the succubus turned around, only to meet a bloodied, angry Matthew, his scythe raised, his blindfold gone. He slammed it down, slashing a huge arc in the air. It grazed her stomach and part of her hair. Her eyes hardened.

"How'd you get out?" She asked, seeming only to be curious.

"Skills." Matthew huffed. Alfred's eyes trailed down onto his hands. The cuff was ripped off, but the cloth that had held his hands captive was still on there. There was a huge rip, but that was about it.

He was also not wearing any pants.

"Oh god... I know this isn't the time to say this, but Mattie? You're only wearing like... fish and chips boxers." Alfred said. His eyes widened. "Holy shit, fish and chips! You... you! My own brother!" He gasped theatrically. Matthew gave him a dark glare.

"Is this really the time?" Matthew said, exasperated. "This is humiliating. I'm fighting a succubus in my boxers."

"Not to mention fucking hilarious." Alfred snapped a quick picture on his phone.

"Delete it!" Matthew lunged at Alfred, who was just laughing.

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Ye-"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" She screeched, catapulting down towards them. They both jumped off in different directions, making her slam right on to the ground. They nodded their heads to each other, and in one, swift motion, they raised their weapons and slashed into her. She screamed, her hair shooting up, before quickly settling down and becoming ash black. They stared at the remains of her.

"Well. One down." Alfred finally said. "And, I would lend you pants bro, but y'know. I'm only wearing one pair." He shrugged. "You look like a prostitute, if that's any help."

"How is that any help?" Matthew said, exasperated. He looked down. His shirt was tattered, his boxers were half-mutilated, he wasn't wearing any shoes, and he could barely see. "I need a new uniform. After I just got a new one, too."

"Uniforms aren't important right now, bro." Alfred patted Matthew on the shoulder. "We need to focus on Arthur and Gilbert. No doubt they're getting pummeled without us, the awesome brothers!" Alfred fist pumped into the air. Matthew did a half-hearted one as well.

"After this is over, I'm taking a bath. And going to bed." He said, sounding tired. "I can't believe I was about to get eaten by a succubus. Incubus. Whatever. You know, I wouldn't mind going back to school, just to see some normal chicks and guys."

"I know right." Alfred rolled his eyes. "But still. You look like a prostitute."

No matter how tired Matthew was, he still had enough strength to give Alfred a black eye.

* * *

Gilbert dragged himself to his pistols, thrown off to the side. He was breathing hard, and when he staggered to his feet, he looked as though he had risen up from the dead. She froze, and the laugh she emitted was horrifyingly grating. Without even turning around, she grabbed hold of one of his pistols and threw it, along with him, to the side of the building opposite them. His shoulder hit it with a sickening crack.

Arthur was chanting even as Gilbert slid down to the ground, groaning. "―leita leið aftur til―" His green eyes were bright in the dark, alight with some unnatural glow.

The succubus screeched, her skin seeming to stretch over her body, as though it were too small to contain all of her without strain. She slammed into him, and he fell to the ground, the spell breaking off as the wind was knocked out of him. He struggled to regain it.

Coral drew her fist back and punched him in the face.

He punched her right back with surprising strength, and she was knocked onto her back. He wiped his bleeding nose with his sleeve. "Fara í―"

"No!" The word was ripped out of her, sounding choked, but it caught his attention, and that was all she needed. She was behind him before he knew it, caressing his collarbone. "Goodbye, exorcist," she whispered in his ear intimately, and her hands left his clavicle to wrap around his neck, squeezing.

He couldn't breathe. How could he have been so stupid? He threw his head back, hitting her in her face, but it did no good. Black spots began to appear in his vision, and his lungs ached from the lack of oxygen. He felt light-headed. His mind moved slower, and he couldn't think of the word that would help him. The light in his eyes dimmed. He couldn't believe he was going to die from this...

Coral's grip suddenly loosened and she was thrown to the side. Arthur crumpled to the ground, coughing desperately, the cool air only briefly entering his lungs before being expelled.

Matthew placed his legs on either side of the succubus, glancing at Alfred, who was by her head, before crouching down, the point of his scythe tickling her throat. It probably would have been better if he had pants. "I wish there was time for us to play with you, but as you can see, we've got some friends to save," he said carelessly, his lips curling into a smirk.

Coral lifted her head and slammed it into his. He fell back, cursing loudly, and she turned to face Alfred, who stared at her in astonishment. "You shouldn't play with your food," she scolded, and moved nimbly out of the way of his chainsaw. He casually changed direction and cut into her stomach. It would have been deeper had she not backed out of its path at the last moment. "Now we're having some fun!" Seeing as Alfred had yet to retract his chainsaw, she flipped onto it, and kicked his chest, sending him flying. She fell backward, but flipped back onto her feet before she hit the ground. Her expression seemed maniacal, and her lips stretched in a grin of sadistic (or perhaps masochistic) glee.

Her knees buckled from a force behind her, and she fell, screaming at a pitch that would break glass. Matthew seized his chance and lopped her head off. He stepped on it before it could roll away. "You shouldn't play with yours, either," he drawled to the now dead succubus, whose body was rapidly decaying.

That done, their attention was turned back to their teammates. Alfred abandoned Sally and rushed over to Arthur, who was still coughing, while Matthew ran to Gilbert, who was unconscious. "Breathe, Artie, breathe," Alfred murmured, pushing back the man's bangs as he helped him to sit up. "Come on, come on." He was staring at the bruises on Arthur's neck, somewhat purplish with some blue mixed in.

Matthew didn't know what to do. One of Gilbert's arms was obviously broken, and most likely dislocated. His face was bloodied. With a sinking feeling, Matthew carefully pulled up his shirt, trying not to jostle him. Thankfully, he wasn't very bruised there, and Matthew pulled it back in place. He had a horrible sense of helplessness. He looked back at Alfred and Arthur; Arthur was out of the coughing stage and was wheezing a bit, and Alfred was rubbing his back, his lips moving in words Matthew couldn't hear.

He looked back at Gilbert, biting his lip. If Arthur had been fine, he could have fixed everyone up. Goddammit. He felt the arm he surmised must be dislocated, and, with a grunt, shoved it back in place. Gilbert didn't wake up for it. It was probably better that way. Breaking bones was a bitch, and if Matthew knew human anatomy at all, he had some broken bones.

Arthur regained his breath, and just sat there for a few seconds, his eyes closed, as Alfred continued rubbing circles onto his back. Ordinarily, he would have slapped his hands away, but he was really not in the mood for unnecessary movements. Matthew, noticing, moved to the side to not get in his way. With some effort, Arthur held up his hand and murmured, his voice awfully raspy, "Lækna." Gilbert's arm, previously bent at an odd angle, righted itself, and his skin rippled, moving bones back to their proper place.

His eyes closed, and he gritted his teeth before opening them again, this time looking at Matthew. "Lagast." Matthew bit back a curse as the skin he had lost during his encounter with the hooker incubus/succubus regrew. It didn't hurt, per se, but it tingled in a rather unpleasant way.

"Thanks, Arthur," he said when it was finished. "If only there was a spell that could give me back my pants."

Arthur didn't seem to notice; he was massaging his temples, his eyes closed once more. It had been a miracle he could even talk clearly enough for the spells to work. It hurt to even swallow. He leaned onto Alfred. Had he been weaker, he would have fainted right then. Alfred didn't stiffen in surprise; instead, he continued to mutter nonsense to him, his voice soft and soothing.

Matthew rolled his eyes, but didn't protest. He might as well let the lovebirds have their moment.

* * *

When they got back to the hotel, they moved their stuff to Gilbert and Alfred's room, since Matthew and Arthur's door was still broken. It was nearing dawn, but they were dead tired. Gilbert had woken up on the way back. Matthew and Arthur fell into one bed with Gilbert and Alfred in the other. They'd been asleep for maybe half an hour before Arthur got up and slunk in beside Alfred, awkwardly putting an arm around him. That made Gilbert nearly fall off the bed. He woke up, and, grumbling, migrated over to Matthew's bed, taking the spot Arthur had vacated. He mumbled something about it still being warm before falling back asleep.

Arthur was the first to wake up. He had spooned Alfred in his sleep. He scooted back a bit, but didn't move all that much. He didn't want to leave the warm spot. He would have been embarrassed in any other situation, but fuck it. He felt too tired to feel anything but exhaustion.

Matthew was the next to awaken; the first thing he noticed was that there was something on him that shouldn't be there. He realized what it was in record time. If he had been able to slap himself, he would have. Gilbert was half on top of him, with one arm flung across his chest and a leg on top of his.

Gilbert woke up next, and tried to roll away from Matthew, except he rolled the wrong way, and now he was really on top of Matthew, so he rolled again, but that just made them tangled in blankets. They tried to untangle themselves, but that made them even more trapped, so they started swearing and telling each other what to do.

That woke up Alfred, who sat up and stared at Gilbert and Matthew. "What the hell are you guys doing?"

"Trying to untangle ourselves," Matthew replied in irritation, his voice muffled. "MOVE YOUR LEG! YOU'RE ABOUT TO KNEE MY DICK!"

"Sorry," Gilbert said, rolling his eyes as he moved his legs.

Arthur would have sighed if it wouldn't have hurt his throat, so he settled for getting out of bed, scratching his stomach. He looked for his bag, and he found it on the desk; he pulled out pants, a shirt, and boxers. He walked into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. He was going to take the first shower of the day.

When Alfred got out of the shower, they looked at him expectantly. Gilbert and Matthew had managed to free themselves from the blankets. He looked back at them. "What?"

"Get us breakfast," Gilbert replied in a 'duh' voice. "Don't forget Arthur's tea, and get honey to sweeten it. It works for sore throats. Maybe it'll work for a guy that nearly died from being choked."

Arthur threw a book at him.

Alfred rolled his eyes, but said, "Aye, aye, Cap'n."

When he left the room, Matthew stood up to get clothes to take a shower, but stopped by the bathroom. "By the way, Gilbert, remember when Arthur and I told you about our relationship? It was all a lie. We don't like each other that way." He closed the door before Gilbert could form a reply.

The albino turned to Arthur, his eyes wide. "WHAT?"

Arthur rolled his eyes and nodded.

"ARE YOU SERIOUS?"

Arthur just looked at him.

Gilbert slapped himself on the forehead. "I can't believe I was fooled! God, you guys should just go be actors or something." He couldn't deny the twinge of relief he felt at the news, however. Now he didn't have to kick Arthur's ass to get Matthew. He was pretty sure it would have been against the rules, anyway. Well, it was a win-win situation, nonetheless.

When Alfred got back, they had finished showering and were playing a game of Go Moose. He held up the bags of McDylan's. "Oh, no, ignore me and the food I bring back. No, just keep playing a game of cards. I don't mind."

Matthew got up to get two of the bags; he handed one of them over to Arthur, who nodded at him in place of a thank-you. Gilbert snorted and got his own. "Thanks, Al," he said, taking the tray of drinks, as well. "You know we love this shit, even though you eventually eat our hamburgers unless we eat them first."

Alfred shrugged. "What can I say? I love burgers."

* * *

Within 20 minutes, they finished packing. Matthew blinked a couple of times, using the contacts he had for back-up. Alfred gave him a thumbs up.

"You know, bro? You look better without glasses." Alfred said. Matthew stuck his tongue out.

"Whatever. I get mistaken for a chick way too often without my glasses." He huffed, and patted on his pair of black jeans he borrowed from Alfred. He was also wearing a shirt that was 2 sizes too big for him that read 'AMERICA' and had multi-colored paint strokes on it. "Wow. This shirt." Matthew smiled. Alfred looked at it.

"Yeah. That was when we were only 6." Alfred sighed dreamily. "I have amazing skills."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." He pulled on his tattered blazer. Luckily, it was washed, so it didn't reek of whores and blood anymore. "I'm driving!" He called out, hoisting his backpack onto his shoulder.

"What! I wanted to drive!" Alfred huffed. Gilbert gave them a look.

"I thought I was going to drive!" Gilbert said incredulously.

"No." Arthur said. "Matthew's driving."

They piled in to the car, with Gilbert sitting in shotgun. After revving it a couple of times, they took off at a normal speed.

After a few minutes, Alfred got bored. He started to kick at Matthew's seat. Matthew didn't notice it at first, until he wouldn't stop. After 5 minutes, Matthew stopped at a red light, and turned to give Alfred a look.

"Would you stop kicking my seat?" He said irritably.

"No." Alfred grinned.

"Stop it or I'll leave you on the curb so that you have to hitch-hike your way back." This made Alfred shut up, since Matthew would actually do that. Arthur was staring out the window, but stopped after a guy with a green mohawk gave him a whistle and the middle finger.

Arthur rolled the window down and yelled, 'FUCK OFF!'

Gilbert proceeded to wave at the people rolling down in buses. Some girls waved back. Others gave him a look. Most, however, ignored him, which made him rather irritated. How could they ignore his awesomeness?

Arthur did not enjoy people watching anymore, so he was crawling into the trunk. Well, about to, until Alfred pulled him back.

"What the fuck?" Arthur called out.

"You didn't let me do it last time, so you can't!"

"PFFFFFT!" Gilbert laughed, causing Arthur to punch him.

"OW! Bitch!" Gilbert rubbed his arm, and punched Arthur back.

"What! How dare you, you ungrateful little-"

"You're one to talk!"

"Look, can you guys just shut up-"

"Mattie, just drive!"

"Say one more word and I'll kick you out." Alfred quieted down again, causing Gilbert to laugh. Matthew sent Gilbert a death glare.

"Okay, someone shove Gilbert out of here." Matthew announced. Arthur's ears perked up.

"Allow me to do it." He offered. Gilbert's eyes widened.

"WHAT! Birdy, I though we had something special together!" Gilbert groaned. Matthew stopped at a red light, and turned to look at him.

"WAIT! WAIT! Are you cheating on Arthur, Mattie?" Alfred gasped, his hand covering his mouth dramatically.

Arthur sighed, and crossed his arms. Matthew resisted the urge to slam his head onto the steering wheel.

"No, Alfred." He said slowly, as though talking to a 2 year old. "I am not cheating on Arthur."

Gilbert looked at Alfred. "Technically, he's not cheating, since they're not dating." This time, Alfred's jaw dropped down.

"WHAT? S... so you two are SEX FRIENDS?" Alfred shrieked this time. Arthur gave him a punch on the eye.

"No, you bloody git!" He roared.

"JUST SHUT UP AND LET ME DRIVE." Matthew yelled, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. That made everyone settle down for a few seconds.

"Just shut up and drive~" Alfred suddenly sang. Gilbert chimed in.

"Get under my um-brella, ella, ella, eh, eh, eh!"

"P-p-p-poker face puh-puh-puhker face!"

"Rah, rah, ruhma ma!~"

"And I was like, baby, baby, baby oh!~"

"And I was like baby, baby, baby- EW JUSTIN BEIBER, DAMN YOU GILBERT!"

"OH MY GOD, SHUT UP!" Matthew slammed his hand on the wheel, making the car honk loudly.

"No." Alfred and Gilbert said at the same time.

Matthew calmly did a U turn, and parked the car. The first thing he did was unfasten his seatbelt. He then opened Gilbert's door.

"What are you-" He didn't even get to finish his sentence before he was pulled out and thrown harshly onto the ground. "Hey!" Gilbert groaned. "I was ripped up by an incubus yesterday!" He paid no attention, and opened Alfred's door.

"Aw, bro, c'mon-" He was also thrown down to the floor. Matthew walked back and sat down on his seat, starting the car again. Ignoring Gilbert and Alfred's shouts, he drove off into the distance.

They drove in silence for about two minutes.

"You know, it's really quiet in here." Matthew remarked.

"Yeah." Arthur said.

He parked along the curb. "I guess we'll just wait for them to catch up..."

They waited for a while. Arthur looked at his nails, and Matthew tapped the steering wheel. Arthur said finally, "Do you think we should tell Alfred?"

Matthew shrugged. "Yeah, probably."

They lapsed back into silence.

Alfred and Gilbert showed up some fifteen minutes later, huffing. "I hate," Gilbert panted as he got in the passenger seat, "you guys." He buckled himself in and Alfred did the same. "If you're going to... c-commit mutiny, you should just... do it right."

Matthew looked at him. "Do you want to run back to the Institute?"

"No."

"Exactly."

Matthew resumed driving, and it was rather quiet for quite a long time. Finally, when they were a few miles away from the Institute of the Otherworldly, Matthew relented. "Okay, you guys can talk now, I guess..."

Gilbert made a noise like a sheep. Alfred replied with another sheep noise. They made a chorus of sheep sounds while Matthew resisted the urge to hit his face against the steering wheel. Arthur just crossed his arms and looked out the window. That went on until Matthew parked in the Institute's parking lot.

They all got out normally, compared to the last time, and Alfred stretched. "Well, this has been an interesting day."

"Very interesting," Arthur agreed dryly.

Gilbert looked at them. "... Now what? Do we just report back?"

Matthew shrugged. "Yeah."

"I find that very un-awesome compared to everything else we've done."

"No one asked you."

* * *

Matthew felt the gaze boring down at him. This was the third time in a row that he had requested for a new uniform, and although it was normal for the students to rip up their clothes, it didn't happen as often as he did.

"Had a rough night?" She commented dryly. She was about 20 years old and distributed uniforms. Her name tag gleamed, reflecting the black letters of 'RENAISSANCE'. Her blonde hair was sweeped up into a messy bun, and her manicured nails were squared and painted navy blue. Her dark blue eyes looked bored, but did a once-over on his outfit, checking out his America shirt, tattered blazer, and his messy hair.

"You can say that." Matthew sighed. "Thank you for the uniform, Renaissance."

"No problem." She replied. "Call me Renee, Matthew. Renaissance is such a mouthful."

"Alright... Renee." He said. Renee flipped through her shiny magazine.

"Anyway, you're a B rank now, right?" She said, her eyes never leaving the magazine.

"Er, yeah. Gilbert's reporting right now." He said.

"Gilbert?" At this, she raised her head. "Gilbert... Gilbert... Albino?"

"Yeah."

"Cocky attitude?"

"Yeah."

"Has this yellow bird?"

"Are you trying to say something?"

"Tell him to apologize for calling Roderich a pussy, alright? And to go to his brother." She said, and then swiveled back on her chair. Matthew cocked his head, but then walked off anyway.

It was an odd feeling, to be a B rank. He had been at the C rank for so long that it was a foreign feeling, to feel stronger. He felt already ten times better, as though he could run a marathon without stopping. (And that's pretty insane.)

Of course, life wasn't that easy.

* * *

HANDY-DANDY TRANSLATIONS OF THE SPELLS

Ári, burt með þér. Flýja frá þessum stað. Leita leið aftur til helvítis=Demon, away with you. Escape from this place. Seek your way back to hell.

Fara í brott!=Begone!

Lækna=cure/heal/put right/right/straighten out

Lagast=heal/mend

It's all in Icelandic. We are using translation sites for it, so I'm sorry if we get anything wrong!


	4. Intermission

_"The Justice Team, please report to the office."_

Matthew groaned, and head-desked his... desk. He was currently in Advanced History, listening to the teacher animatedly talk about the Hot War and the Non-Civil War. And although it was all very, very fascinating, Matthew had found himself to be doodling on his notebook, drawing shamrocks and coffee cups and a perfect replica of the Sunbucks symbol.

That is, until the intercom sounded and made him draw a line across it by accident.

Cursing at his brother in every language he knew (which was quite a lot, he must say) for picking such a retarded name, he packed up his things and shuffled away quietly. Not many people stared at him, but others threw erasers at him, probably realizing that he was moving up a rank. Picking up an eraser, he flipped to the side of it.

_"Wanna make out? You have a load of hickeys- how much a night?"_

He immediately reached to his neck, and could feel the large, purple welt underneath his collar. Dammit, he thought he had concealed it! Obviously not. Glaring daggers at every single person he saw, he slammed the door shut, making a satisfying echo in the halls. Who was it that accepted that damn mission, anyway?

Oh, right. Arthur.

Stupid Arthur. With his damn bushy eyebrows. And nice accent. And smart personality.

And the fact that his brother had the hots for him.

Matthew kicked at a wall in irritation. He had his fun pretending to be Arthur's lover. The brief moments of contact, the touch against his skin. They had silly moments, smiles he didn't think Arthur would have, and they had a good friendship. That was all he needed.

Was that all he wanted?

He then smacked his head onto the wall. Yes. Yes. What was he even thinking?

"Stop hitting your head against the wall, it'd be a pity to lose such a smart person like you." A very familiar voice said. Matthew immediately froze, and then turned around.

There he stood, with all his bushy-eyebrowed glory.

Fuck.

"And you're the only decent person in our group. Do you really want to abandon me in a group of wankers?" He scolded lightly, and then stared at Matthew's head. "You know, you have some blood up there."

"Oh!" Matthew's hand shot up there, and he laughed nervously. "I'll just go and see Renaissan- I mean, Renee, and ask for a band-aid." He started to inch away, but Arthur's hand slapped onto his shoulder. He visibly flinched, and straightened up.

"No need." Arthur took out, from his pocket, a handkerchief. He dabbed at Matthew's forehead, and then grinned. "See? Good as new! Now let's go see what that Principal of ours wants from us." He retracted his arm, and started to walk forward. Matthew stood there dumbly for a minute, before Arthur turned around and raised an eyebrow.

"What are you waiting for, lad? Do you want to postpone your upgrade?" He motioned for him to follow. "We're an advanced country, mate. Women can walk beside us, go to school, anything."

It took a couple of seconds before Matthew registered what Arthur was saying. "God dammit, Arthur! I can't believe you just called me a woman!" He ran forward and punched Arthur on the arm. Arthur only laughed it off.

This crush was not wearing off anytime soon.

Arthur, of course, didn't know about Matthew's feelings. They walked to the office, keeping up banter that would make their other two teammates envious. When they arrived, Alfred and Gilbert were already in the office, looking impatient. Alfred brightened when he spotted them. "Artie!" Then, as an afterthought, "Mattie!"

Matthew looked at him flatly. "Did you really just do that?"

"Yes," his brother replied with the utmost dignity. "Yes, I did."

Gilbert rolled his eyes, looking back at the headmaster. "So, sir? You wanted us?" He sounded surprisingly respectful, considering what kind of person he was.

The headmaster, an old man named Legolas, nodded, his expression grave. "I have called you here to present to you the evidence of your upgrade to Level B." The wrinkles around his eyes and mouth deepened as he smiled, holding out four small medals. "You deserve these."

The team took them, fairly bursting with pride. "Thank you, sir," Gilbert said, voicing what they all wanted to say. Then he ruined it by asking, "Does this mean I have bragging rights? Because I am dying to gloat to Antonio and Roderich." Before Legolas could reply, he grinned down at his medal. "Oh, man, I can just imagine their reactions. Antonio will be all happy for me while his teammates are all like, 'GET OUT', and Roderich will just slam on that piano of his and then Elizaveta will totally try to beat me up with her frying pan for mocking her husband or whatever the f..." He stopped himself just in time from cursing. "Fudge he is. Yes."

Luckily, Legolas was pretty cool with humor. That didn't stop him from looking at the albino with an unamused face. "Yes, I suppose it _does_ give you bragging rights. Just remember not to do it in hearing range of our Level As."

Alfred, who had been coming up with schemes to brag about being a Level B in front of the As, looked rather sheepish. "Is that a command or just a suggestion, sir?"

Legolas looked at him. "Do I really need to answer that, boy?"

"... Okay." Alfred took a step back to be directly beside Arthur, successfully putting himself between his love and his brother. He glanced at Arthur, who glanced back at him, and he had to smile. That made Arthur quirk a small smile back at him before looking away.

Matthew swallowed his jealousy and plastered a smile on his face. "Is that all, sir?" he asked, as they were out of things to say.

"Yes. You can go now." Legolas made a 'shoo' motion. "Ask Rachelle for the liberties you now have, if you don't remember what they are." Everyone had learned what sort of freedoms and new rights they had when they moved up in the levels. It made them try harder to get to the one they wanted. Not many people were disappointed.

* * *

After their upgrade, they decided to take it easy for a few days. It was rare for students to even have a whiff of fresh air, since they usually went mission after mission after mission. Not all students were studious, but it was a big disappointment for everyone when there was a student who was still a D Rank that was pass the age of 15.

Matthew decided to use his extra time to go talk to Renee.

He wasn't actually friends with her. He just went to get a new uniform far too often, so they were on a first-name basis. (Usually, she didn't know anyone's names, because she didn't bother. One time, Alfred went up to her, and she just raised her eyebrow and said, "Matthew's bro, right? Name's... Jack?" It made Alfred's jaw drop.) He wandered around aimlessly, picked up a coffee and took a couple of sips, and went up to her.

"Sorry, I'm on break..." She trailed off when she lifted her eyes off from her magazine. "Oh, hey, Matt! For me? You shouldn't have!" Without waiting for a response, she grabbed it and downed it, never mind the fact that it was scalding hot. She wiped her mouth with a handkerchief (which reminded him of that... argh!) and pushed the magazine away.

"So... you have a problem?" She said, pushing her icey-blond hair back. She reminded him of Ivan, sort of. Except for the fact that she had blue eyes and was not as scary as him.

"No... just got upgraded, decided to chill for a few days." He shrugged. She examined him closely, and then snapped her fingers.

"I got it! Girl problems?" She said, her eyes shining. Matthew laughed.

"No, of course not." _More like guy problems, _he thought bitterly.

"Hmm... then... Gil problems?" She said, smirking. Matthew looked at her, confused.

"What... Gilbert's fine, acting okay." He looked at her strangely. She sighed.

"You are a dense kid."

"We're practically the same age!"

"No. Two years, hon."

"Uh huh."

"Well, if it's not Gilbert, who is it?" She leaned back and swiveled on her chair a couple of times.

"It's no one." He said firmly. She sighed, and counted off from her fingers.

"Johan? Nikolai? Romano?" He was caught off guard.

"Wha-"

"Mathias? Ludwig? Kiku? Elizaveta? Belle-"

"Look, what are you talking about-"

"Arthur?"

This made his lips go in a line. She smiled.

"Ah, hit the mark, didn't I?" She said, seeming proud.

"No." He said stubbornly.

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Ye-"

"Okay!" Matthew said, throwing his hands in the air. "You got it right, alright?" He sighed, and sunk onto her desk. "This sucks."

"What? Arthur's a... a..." She thought for a minute. "Wait! Bushy eyebrows? Prodigy? Hallucinates?"

"Yes."

"Guy that Jack likes?"

"Fuck. Yes."

"Ooh." She clucked her tongue sympathetically. "Been there, done that. Painful. I lost."

"And I'm going to lose, too." He sighed. "No one knows either, so keep this between us two."

"Alright, honey." She said, smiling.

"And I'm not going after him. Alfred likes Arthur, Arthur likes Alfred. Brothers come before lovers." He picked at an eraser shaving, and cut it in half with his fingernail.

"You're a good brother." She frowned. "But don't waste your time on guys like him. Go and get someone else."

"Uh... huh." He said, sliding off from the desk. "I'm not looking for love right now, so no need. Thanks, though."

She nodded her head, and waved him off. "Bye, Matthew!" She said cheerfully. Matthew waved back, and walked off.

"Matthew is so dense." She muttered, picking up her magazine. "And who the fuck is Alfred?"

* * *

Alfred was lying out in the courtyard near the fountain (which was rumored to be the original Fountain of Youth), his eyes closed, the breeze rustling his hair. He was enjoying the nice day in a fairly good way. He probably would've liked it more if he had someone to enjoy it with, but hey! At least it wasn't raining, like Arthur said his home country was like.

Oh! Had anyone told you? Arthur wasn't from good ol' Aleyrn. He was from some other country (one whose name Alfred couldn't be bothered to remember). Fancy that, eh? He moved to somewhere in Aleyrn before being sent to Veturborg to be trained in supernatural dealings. It was why he had an accent.

He felt someone by him, and he opened his eyes. Well, speak of the devil. Arthur was standing over him, but he moved to plop down beside him. "Hey," Arthur greeted casually, one corner of his lips quirking upward. "I don't suppose you'll explain to me what's so great about lying down on the grass."

Alfred laughed, tilting his head to look at his friend. "It's something that cannot be taught, young grasshopper. It can only be experienced."

"I hope you don't expect me to actually―" The rest of his sentence was cut off with a yelp as Alfred pulled him down, almost causing him to bang his head on the fountain. He bit back a curse, but settled more or less comfortably on the ground, the grass tickling his neck in a most unpleasant way. "I hate you."

Alfred tried to shrug, but it didn't exactly work out. "Just close your eyes, okay?"

Arthur couldn't help but eye him suspiciously.

"I promise I won't do anything."

They lied in silence for a while until Alfred broke it. "It's relaxing, right?" he asked, propping himself up with the elbow nearest Arthur. He smiled down at him when Arthur's eyes fluttered open.

"I guess," Arthur relented grudgingly. "But the grass annoys me."

Alfred snickered. "The grass? Out of all things you could be annoyed by, you chose grass?"

Arthur lifted a hand and shoved him, which resulted in Alfred rolling onto his back with an _umph_. He sat up and tugged Arthur toward him, which led to them both falling. Somehow, that evolved into playful wrestling. It only ended when they bumped into three people, who scattered, giggling. They looked at each other and started laughing uncontrollably.

Alfred managed to stand up, and offered a hand; when Arthur took it, he lifted him up. He reached out and plucked a few blades of grass out of Arthur's hair. "For a guy who complains about grass, it seems it's attracted to you," he stated with that mega-watt grin he was practically famous for (or perhaps a tad infamous, in this case).

Arthur found himself blushing, and he lifted his hands to rub at his cheeks, attempting to scowl at his companion. "It's your fault," he complained. "If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have even needed to whine about something as trivial as grass."

"You know you love me," Alfred said, sticking his tongue out.

Arthur rolled his eyes, wishing that, just once, he could be able to express himself properly. "Right."

"Anyway..." Alfred ran a hand through his hair, pulling out several blades of grass. "We should do something, you know, together. Because we don't really hang out much, you know? And since you're, uh, having casual sex with Mattie, I don't think we'll really have time to hang out, if you and him bang a lot..."

The shorter man sighed. "Alfred, there's something I should probably tell you."

Alfred blinked. "Yeah?"

"I never actually shagged Matthew." Arthur crossed his arms. "Nor was our romance ever real. We made it up to mess with you. We hadn't expected you to actually believe it."

Alfred coughed. "E-excuse me?" He held up a hand, turned his head to the side, away from Arthur, and made a few gagging noises that sounded vaguely like dying ducks. He turned back, rubbing his mouth. "So, let me get this straight. You let me think that you and Mattie were an item? JUST TO MESS WITH ME?"

Arthur shrugged. "Pretty much, yeah."

Alfred stared at him. "I hate you so much."

"Mmhmm." Arthur smiled awkwardly, nudging Alfred's shoulder with his own. "Now let's get going. You said you wanted to do something together, remember?"

Alfred blinked again before his face lit up, his lips stretching into that grin of his. "Oh, yeah. I think we should..." As Alfred continued on with his idea, they started walking, close enough that their shoulders bumped with every other step.

It might have been, but might not have been, love.

* * *

Meanwhile, Gilbert was kicking at cans in the cafeteria. He was about to send one into this one girl's face when he spotted his best friend. "Toni!" he exclaimed, standing up. The man looked up, looking like a startled rabbit. "There you are! My god, I've been looking everywhere for you!" He made his way over to Antonio, knocking more than a few people out of the way.

"Hey, Gil," Antonio greeted, glancing down at Lovino, who was glaring very intensely at Gilbert, probably predicting a giant shit-storm. "I was in my garden." His tone implied that Gilbert should have known that, and really, he should have. When someone wanted Antonio, they went to his garden. It was very likely he would be there.

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Whatever." He took hold of Antonio's shoulders and looked him right in the eye. "Have you heard the news yet?"

Lovino resisted the urge to kick him in the crotch. "What, that you're now Level B?" he guessed sarcastically.

"Whoa!" Antonio's face brightened, confusion replaced with pleasure. "That's great! I can't believe you did it!"

Gilbert released him and smirked. "Yeah, I know, but come on. How can someone as awesome as me _not_ be Level B?" He gestured to himself, his eyebrows raising. "Seriously. I'm the most awesome and also the hottest piece of ass this place has ever seen."

Lovino crossed his arms. "You wish."

"Bitch, please," Gilbert replied flippantly. "You know you want this."

"You gay-ass son of a bitch, I will fucking end you _and_ your goddamn―"

"SO HAVE FUN BEING A LEVEL B," Antonio interrupted before it got too graphic, tugging Lovino away. "SEE YOU LATER."

Gilbert stared after them. What the hell just happened? Oh, well. He shrugged. Might as well visit his brother while he had nothing to do. He strolled over to Ludwig's dorm, and opened the door. It was fairly neat, though in Ludwig terms, it meant it was extremely messy. He must not be there. He would have never allowed his roommate to mess things up that badly.

He walked over to the desk that was clearly Ludwig's, and opened one of the drawers, pulling out a notepad. He picked a pen up from the desk and scribbled down a note.

_Hey, West―_

_Call me when you see this, alright? We gotta meet up sometime soon. Miss you, bro!_

_―your awesome brother_

He nodded in satisfaction and left it there, walking back out, whistling. Yeah, he was the best at notes. He was awesome in general. What did you expect? This was Gilbert we're talking about.

Anyway, it was time to find something to do. He compiled a list in his head before stopping abruptly in the middle of the hall. It was a day off, and he couldn't figure out what to do. "Fuck my life," he said aloud, slapping his forehead. Time to go do whatever he could come up with off the top of his head.

That just happened to be buy a shitload of marshmallows and make s'mores while throwing the burnt ones at people passing by from somewhere high, which would make it seem like a bird just shit on them.

"Marshmallow Man strikes again," he whispered dramatically, running off to do exactly that.

He ran into the school department store, peering into every single aisle before spotting the marshmallow signs. He grinned. It was as if Julius was looking after him. He whistled, and hopped, reaching for a bag, but his hand touched with someone's ice cold hand.

He looked up, and found Johan.

Now, he had nothing against Johan. They just didn't talk often, and since he was Romano's roommate, he was quite sure he had to put up with a load of shit. But with his dark, purple eyes staring down at his own, reflecting nothing, it was rather discerning.

"Well. Here to buy marshmallows?" Gilbert said, laughing. He retracted his arm. Johan picked up the bag of marshmallows idly.

"I was bored." Johan responded, his voice flat and emotionless. Gilbert almost flinched, but he managed not to- because hey, he was Gilbert, and he was awesome. Awesome people do not flinch. But it was quite hard not to against this albino.

Even though Gilbert was an albino as well. But whatever.

"I was thinking of burning the marshmallows and throw it on people's heads from up high." He continued on. "Nikolai's off searching for Arthur for their weekly occult meeting thing, and-"

"Woah, wait. Back the fuck up." Gilbert raised his hand up in front of Johan's face. Johan pushed it away irritably. "You were going to throw it down on people's head so that it would look like bird shit?"

"Yes, although I don't know where you got the 'bird shit' part from, because I'm pretty sure I wasn't thinking aloud." Johan said, his eyes narrowing.

"Awesomesauce! That's what I was thinking!" Gilbert said, laughing. He slapped Johan on the shoulder. Johan gave a grunt to show his distaste. "We should totally do that together!"

"What? No." Johan said. Before he could walk away, Gilbert grabbed his arm and pulled him to the check out counter. Johan groaned. He really should've just ignored the idiot.

243 burnt marshmallows later, Johan was unwilling to admit it was actually fun. Especially the looks of surprise by the unsuspecting targets. That was pure gold. He was quite certain that Nikolai would stare at him as though he was a retard (which he pretty much is acting like one right now) but after burning marshmallows into crisp after crisp, he didn't care anymore.

He was also hoping that the mini fire he made wouldn't catch onto his clothes and send him catapulting down and make HIM a human burnt marshmallow.

* * *

The only thing Matthew could do was stare.

It was immense, huge, and ominous. Just looking at it for 2 seconds was enough to traumatize him for life. It was barricading his door, snickering evilly, looking happy and something the devil shit out from his pants. It was dark, gross and absolutely horrifying.

It was Alfred's homework.

Actually, cross that out: It was Alfred's _unfinished _homework. Big diff there. It was so tall and so... WHITE... that Matthew could feel himself go colourblind.

How many missions did they go on? Not that many, seriously. And plus, the teacher was usually lenient on kids who went on missions. (More importantly, to the kids that died on their missions, the teacher tended to burn homework at their grave. No joke.) Except for the fact that Alfred called him 'dragon lady', 'teacher's bitch' and 'mom'. Mr. Wang was feminine looking but anything but girly. In fact, he did a 360 degree kick at Alfred's face when he called him that.

It resulted in Matthew having to escort Alfred to the nurse's office and hearing him talk about how his nose was bleeding.

Matthew edged around it, and tripped over a moldy donut, which made him fall head-first into the sheets and sheets of homework. The paper fell, scattering like snow, but far from being majestic. It just made him sigh, and wince at the papercut on his face.

"Mattie! Are you- woah." Alfred pushed open the door, and stared at the mess. "I see that you have many unfinished homework."

"It's YOUR homework, you bitch." Matthew said, getting up. Alfred offered his hand. Matthew eyed it warily, and took it. "You should probably stop calling Mr. Wang mom."

"Well, he acts like it!" However, Alfred rubbed his nose self-consciously, as though remembering the pain.

"Are you going to get Artie- I mean Arthur- to do it for you?" Matthew said. The papers looked even taller for some reason.

"I could." Alfred chuckled. "I mean, I have to. How else am I going to be able to do all this shit here?" Alfred waved his hand in the direction of the homework.

"You could do it yourself?" Matthew suggested.

"Or I could send a message to Mr. Wang calling him a faggot." Alfred's eyes lightened up. "Yes! That's what I'll do! Where's the machine?"

"You broke it last month." Matthew said dryly.

"Oh. Right. Ahahah." Alfred laughed. "Let's go to someone else's place!"

"To call Mr. Wang a faggot?" Matthew said.

"Yes." Alfred beamed. "Isn't that a great idea?"

"You're an idiot."

"Correction: A HOT idiot."

"You're still an idiot."

"You're my twin, so you are one too."

"I'm your unwilling twin."

"God, Mattie!" Alfred threw his hands in the air. "I bet that if we weren't related, you'd want to bang me right here, right now!" He sighed dramatically. "But then again, who DOESN'T want my hot piece of ass?"

"I don't." Matthew said, raising an eyebrow. Alfred pouted.

"That's because you're my TWIN. You've seen enough of my junk to last your lifetime." At that, Matthew slapped his arm.

"That was when we were younger. And I've been traumatized enough." Matthew said, snickering.

"I know." Alfred nodded his head. "I know."

* * *

Now, Arthur was a nice guy. A gentleman would never act rudely or in a way that would cause offense. However, he tended to forget that rule, and, actually, if there was a rule against sulking, he had forgotten that one, too. He was sitting on his neatly-made bed, arms around his knees, attempting to rid himself of the urge to strangle something or someone―or, more accurately, Alfred.

They were fine up until they started feeding ducks. Arthur was quite brutally attacked by a rather large one, and Alfred had just sat there and laughed while Arthur was mauled by a duck. He suspected it wasn't any ordinary duck. It was quite obviously a hitman, hired, perhaps, by an evil goose wizard hoping to be rid of one of its few competitors. It might have been a swan. He wasn't sure yet. Actually, maybe it was Alfred. The git would certainly do something like that for the laughs.

After the duck incident, they chilled at McDonald's. Alfred started making funny faces at him over the rim of his cup, and Arthur nearly choked in laughter several times before proceeding to cough violently and then wheeze and cough twice more before being fine. Alfred laughed at that, too. Rather, it made him burst out in such laughter that it took several minutes for him to calm down, and then he would look back up at Arthur, and he would start laughing again.

Arthur had never wanted to punch anyone so much.

He had also somehow managed to step into mud after they'd left. When Alfred had commented on it, he had resisted chucking his shoes at him. Now, he wished he'd done it. They may be friends, but that didn't mean Arthur could really tolerate Alfred all the time. Really, Matthew was much better at staying in Arthur's graces than Alfred.

The foreigner grew pensive, his irritation draining. How could he be oblivious to the boy's feelings? He hoped it wasn't anything strong. He'd never been good at rejecting anyone. He raked a hand through his hair with a sigh, feeling as though an invisible weight pressed against his shoulders. Matthew was a good kid, but he just didn't feel that way. Or maybe he did, but didn't know. He doubted it, though. If he really did like Matthew, he wouldn't feel tired when he thought about it.

Just thinking about it made him feel weary. He pressed his face into his knees. He wished there was a way to just stop thinking for a while. Maybe leaving to throw pieces of bread at the duck hitman would help him feel better. That would probably just make it attack him again, though, so he decided that he would stay in his room for the time being.

It wasn't like he had anything to do. It was their day off, and he'd finished his homework ages ago, so he had nothing to do but perhaps slowly melt into the ground and fertilize plants.

He slowly leaned to one side until gravity felt it would give him a break and made him fall the rest of the way, still clutching his legs. Unfortunately, he hadn't landed quite so close to his pillows, so he had to release the appendages to scoot himself forward and then pull parts of his body up as he pulled the blanket out from underneath him. It was probably more effort than he would have exerted had he just got up and lifted the quilt up to slide underneath it.

He took a deep breath and sighed it out. Closing his eyes, he breathed regularly, maintaining an image of nothing. He would take a short nap. Maybe a long one. Sleep the day away, yes. It sounded like a terrific idea. At least he wouldn't feel like an angst-ridden teenager that fretted over problems in the ways of love with such intensity that he had somehow managed to create an entirely new illness that involved him dying from the inside. Lovely image.

He was quite impressed by his creativeness. It wasn't every day he was able to conjure up bizarre instances such as these. It certainly wasn't helping him fall asleep, though. Maybe he should invent a spell that worked in such a way that the more creative and tired you were, the easier you slept. Something like that, anyway. He couldn't exactly think straight. He may be bursting with ideas, but he was still tired, and he was ready to sleep. Really, it wasn't as though he had acquired a long-lost ancient treasure and was being hunted down so that a maniac archaeologist could get their hands on it.

After a vague wonder of what he was even thinking, unconsciousness claimed him, and he welcomed it.

Unfortunately, his creativity seemed to have bled through, for he had the most bizarre dream he was likely to ever have.

He found himself surrounded by white. It wasn't so much that he was on a plane of nothing than that he was in a room whose only color was white. There was a long table nearly large enough to stretch from one end of the room to the other. It had about a dozen wooden chairs, and three vases filled halfway with water and flowers the size of his fists. The walls were bare even of windows and doors. Looking up, he found that there seemed to be no ceiling; there was something like glass that decorated the space instead in large swirling patterns that seemed to move like waves.

When he tore his gaze away from the top of the room, he found that there was a window across from him, the blue of the sky welcoming after the blinding whiteness of the room. Moving forward, his eyes widened as he saw that there were people outside. He recognized them with a start. His brothers were smaller than he remembered, younger, their faces not quite as thin, the bags under their eyes not quite as dark, their shoulders not yet bent with what seemed to him like the weight of the world. They were throwing around a ball, their mouths moving, the corners of their eyes crinkling, but he couldn't hear a thing.

He lifted a hand to tentatively touch the glass separating them, but it burst apart in a beautiful arrangement of colors; as it fell, he could see the image flicker on the separate pieces before dying. The place where the window had been was a part of the wall again with no evidence that there had ever been anything else there.

His fingers brushed against the space in wonder, and suddenly, he was falling. His mouth had just opened in preparation to scream when he hit the surface of the water, knocking the breath out of him, and he sunk, bubbles streaming out to meet the air. He tried to swim upwards, but he felt surprisingly, unbearably heavy. Just when he thought he might actually drown, he was pulled out of the water onto dry ground. A hand slapped his back a few times as he gagged out the liquid that had entered his mouth. He looked up blearily at his savior, forced to squint because the sun was currently behind the man; he couldn't really see anything other than that the guy was blond, his white shirt was soaked through, and he was very, very wet. He thought he saw the frame of glasses. He found himself blurting out in a horrendously croaky voice, "Are you an angel?"

The stranger laughed, the sound pleasing to the ears. "Shucks, no," he said with a drawl typical of southerners, but it was different. The accent was mixed with something more familiar. "Still in training."

Before Arthur could think of anything to say, the man faded, as if he were but a picture painted with mist, and the scenery changed into a meadow; the moisture had vanished and had been replaced with dirt stains. He reached out in blind panic, as if an unseen force moved him, and his other hand spread out across the ground, the tips digging in as he drew his fingers into a fist.

His mouth moved with words he didn't recognize, a sense of urgency overcoming him. A powerful voice, disconnected from a body, answered him, and he hit the ground, breathlessly shouting back. His gaze moved to a boy in front of him, lying still, seeming to be sinking into the ground. Vines were wrapped around his wrists and ankles, pulling him down. His eyes burned when the features of the male cleared. His glasses were bent, his hair looked as though it needed a good wash, and his face was streaked with filth, but it was easy to recognize him.

Alfred.

Someone called out his name, and he looked up, eyes locking with Matthew's. The younger man's expression was contorted in a look of pain, unable to accept his brother's near-inevitable death; splattered with blood, he yelled at him to do something, anything. He couldn't let Alfred die, not now, not after all they'd gone through.

He screamed back that he didn't know how to help him. They were dealing with the earth itself, a massive, unbending thing that was somehow under the power of their opponent. How was he supposed to fight it alone? How was he supposed to save him? Help him win the battle; injure the man, distract him, anything that would help.

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to reason with the world. He blocked out everything that wasn't the ground beneath him, rumbling. In his mind's eye, there was a man he almost recognized, blue-eyed and dangerous, with a woman with silvery-blond hair. In their hands was what looked to be a bird cage with something inside that looked to be a sort of stone so dark that it made everything else seem ridiculously vivid. The woman smiled at him, all teeth, the points of which glittered. "Too late," she said, too clearly for the distance between them, and everything seemed to unravel like a ball of yarn.

He woke up drenched in sweat. He sat up, breathing hard, as if he had run all day without pause. He pushed his bangs back from his forehead shakily. He stared down at his blanket, waiting for his heartbeat to slow down. Well, that was quite interesting. He felt rather paranoid. Why did the last bit seem so ominous? It was just a dream, but he couldn't shake the feeling of dread. He hoped he didn't just have some sort of premonition.

That led to increased worry. What if it was a premonition? If it was, it meant that his team was going to go up against a very skilled opponent in what looked to be the near future. He wasn't at all sure if they were going to make it out alive. He hadn't seen Gilbert in the scene, which was odd in itself, but coupled with the fact that Alfred had been sinking into the ground, it made him a bit more concerned than he would have been otherwise.

He flexed his fingers, exhaling slowly. It was fine. Nothing was going to happen. It was all a silly dream and nothing more. No one was going to have a near-death experience anytime soon. No one was going to die. No one was going to have to go through that.

Feeling that this was going to be as calm as he was going to get, he looked over at the clock beside his bed, and grimaced. It was only two o'clock in the morning. It was much too early to wake up from a dream like that. Then again, he _had_ gone to sleep sometime in the evening. Ah, well. He twisted around to fluff his pillows and settled against them, his eyes drifting closed. He wouldn't dream anything this time, he was sure, and he was right.

When he awoke earlier than usual, he went into his bathroom to take a long, hot shower and shave.


End file.
